Darker Side of Paradise
by SolarRose29
Summary: When Peter and Edmund get shipwrecked on a mysterious island, they'll have to fight for survival.
1. Edmund

Okay, cue long author's note. Sorry for not replying to reviews or posting or doing everything else I should be doing on this site. This new year has been crazy (it's only February, haha) since I am currently working four part time job and it's cutting into my free time. So. Normally I don't post stories until they're finished. However, this is a wip but I wanted to at least give you a sneak peak since it's been so long and because I promised this story to several of you.

This was actually inspired by a prompt from a guest reviewer, Just a Faun, on my other Narnia story!  
And I was also heavily inspired to write it because of my amazing, incredible, wonderful reviewers over there who reviewed more than once, in lengthy and detailed glory, which totally brightened my day, giving me a smile for a week! So I'd like to shout out to them: awillimasbbc.98, ChildofGod, NarniaGirl, ChecktheGate12, ForNarnia! Thank you all so much and I hope you like this story as well :D

One more **important** note, this story will switch pov every chapter so please be sure to look at the top of the chapter to see which Pevensie brother is narrating.

* * *

 _Edmund_

I sat up, choking and gasping. Sea water and saliva dribbled down my chin as my lungs rigorously performed a bit of spring cleaning. I was on a beach. The sand, painfully bright in the sunlight, spread out to touch the water line just a few yards from me and off to the left, and the right, where the smooth line of it was swallowed into a dense jungle. I stood, wincing as I did. Apparently I had acquired an extensive collection of cuts and bruises recently. The damage was superficial, although there was a knot on my head that ached worse than the other injuries. I rubbed it absently until I realized I was smearing sand into it. Quickly I pulled my hand away and wiped it on my tunic. Which was also covered in sand. And ripped in several places. And had bits of seaweed clinging to the rich fabric. Susan was going to kill me.

Brushing the grime from my clothes as best I could, I then surveyed my surroundings. There wasn't much to see. Aside from the dazzling blue water lapping playfully at the shoreline and the jungle to my right, there was only sand and large rocks scattered across the beach and the shallows. I shaded my eyes with a hand and squinted into the sky. Nothing there but a few lazy clouds. I took a few steps forward, my boots sinking into the soft sand, until I reached the water. I stood in it for a minute with my eyes closed, absorbing the warmth of the sun. The surf was a gentle song, the breeze playing the harmony through my hair. I couldn't remember ever being anywhere so quiet. It was relaxing. It was peaceful.

Something bumped into my boot and I startled, tripping over my own feet as I scrambled out of the water, picturing something horrible and hungry with thousands of teeth. With a muted thump, I landed on my rear in a very unkingly heap. The monster I was so afraid of turned out to be little more than a plank of wood. Recovering from my fright, I gained my feet and retrieved the driftwood. Curious, I inspected my find. The dark wood was smooth and light. Both ends of it were jagged and split, suggesting it had been damaged somehow, perhaps it had been dashed against the rocks near the shore. A length of rope was knotted in the center of it. Instantly I felt my heart stutter. I recognized the knot. Flinging the wood away from me as if it was a snake liable to strike, I turned on my heel and raced through the sand.

"Peter!" I called, voice oddly loud in the tranquility around me.

I skidded to a stop, the thought coming to me that I could be heading in the wrong direction.

"Peter!" I shouted again, taking the time to scan the beach in front of me for any sign.

Finding none, I spun around, searching the other side for a clue. The sand lay open before me like a polished piece of glass, sleek and undisturbed. Pulse quickening, I moved forward hesitantly. Doubt grabbed my ankles and seemingly moved my body of its own volition and I found myself going the other direction instead. But indecision halted my movement altogether. Which way? Left or right? East or west? I had no way of knowing where my brother was. Or if he was even on this island. What if he hadn't made it to land? What if he had drowned? What if he-

My throat closed over, rebelling against my panicked breathing. A coughing fit put a stop to my morbid thoughts and I had to take a moment to recover. A cloud passed over the sun as I bent over, bracing my hands on my knees. In the same moment that I regained my breath, the cloud moved aside and the sun embraced me with warmth once more. Slowly, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and silently asked the Great Lion for help.

No thunderous roar echoed across the water. The beach didn't tremble beneath the weight of those velvet paws. No words whispered through the wind, nor did the sand part to point the way. But I felt His answer all the same. In the slowing of my racing heart, the calming of my panting breaths, the confidence that washed away my panic. When I opened my eyes, I stepped with new determination. The island was an isolated patch of land in the sea. If I walked long enough, I could cover the entire beach, no matter which direction I started in.

The sand shifted mischievously beneath my boots but I plodded on the best I could, given the circumstances. While keeping alert for any hint as to Peter's whereabouts, I noticed how this beach was different from Cair Paravel's. The water here was a deeper blue, the sand whiter. And it was so quiet. There were no mermaids laughing as they splashed through the surf. I had yet to see a single bird, whereas the gulls that frequented the Cair's cliffside were bordering on being a nuisance. I couldn't find any other creatures either. Despite how I looked for turtles and crabs along the shore, stared into the water for fish, or looked to the sky for fowl, it appeared I was alone. Disheartened by that discovery, I allowed myself to become distracted by more gloomy thoughts. Such as how thirsty I was. As I walked, I occasionally felt the crunch of sand grains between my molars and I wondered when it was that I had sampled the beach. Whenever it was, it was involuntary as I detest sand for being invasive and clingy. Between the sand that had somehow wound up in my mouth, and my struggle through it under the shining sun, my tongue was getting terribly dry. I'm pretty sure the water was mocking me too. Stupid sea could keep its salt water to itself for all I cared. As was my habit whenever I was feeling particularly glum, I started counting my aches and scrapes. As preoccupied as I was, it's no wonder that I nearly walked right into the beached corpse of a small sailing boat. The sight of it instantly banished all lesser thoughts from my mind and I clambered onto the wreckage.

"Peter! Pete!"

There wasn't much to search. The boat was of simple design, crafted for a swift and pleasurable ride through calm waters. It didn't surprise me to find it was little more than a pile of matchsticks now. Using a length of rope dangling from the severed mast, I climbed aboard, still calling for my brother. I received no answer. But from my vantage point, I was able to spy a boot sticking out from behind a large rock near the waterline. Without hesitation, I leaped off the boat and went to investigate.

Splashing through the shallows, I quickly found the boot and its owner. Relief swept through me as I took in the sight of my brother. His upper half was slumped uncomfortably across another rock, while his legs floated limply in the water. Not caring that I was soaking my clothes, I knelt next to him, gently shaking his shoulder and saying his name. After a nearly inaudible groan, he roused gradually, eyes blinking sluggishly beneath the tangled strands of his damp hair.

"Thank Aslan," I breathed. "Hello, Peter." I grinned.

His gaze took a minute to focus on me but when it did, his eyes widened comically and he yelped, jerking away from me so abruptly that he fell into the water.

"Watch it! You almost brained yourself on that rock," I warned, pointing behind him to the offending rock that had been a near miss.

With his mouth opening and closing as if on hinges, his eyes alternating between squinting and staring, and his hair a waterlogged mess, he didn't look kingly or magnificient. But he still looked like Peter which, after knowing him before he was High King, meant I was allowed to enthusiastically laugh at his completely ridiculous expression. And I probably would have kept right on laughing had he not reached out to touch me, revealing his bound hands. The chuckles turned sour on my tongue and I grabbed his wrists, surveying the crude rope and the hastily tied knot that secured it.

"Lion's mane, Peter. What happened to you?" I muttered, setting to work on undoing the knot.

"Edmund?" he gasped, the single word starved of volume by his tone of disbelief.

"Yes?" I grunted, focused on my task.

"You're..." The sentence was never completed.

Instead, his hands moved toward me again and I impatiently yanked them back into place. "Hold still. I've almost got it."

For as much as he complains about me never doing as I'm told, Peter could hardly be described as obedient himself. No sooner had I put his hands where I wanted them, Peter tried tugging out of my grip again.

"Stop it," I growled, fingers fighting against the wet fibers of the rope.

The moment I loosened the knot enough to pull it apart, Peter ripped the cord himself when he tried to fling his arms around me. I had just enough warning to employ an effective countermeasure. I sidestepped his intended hug and brought my arm up across his chest to reach his shoulder. Using that point of contact as an anchor, I managed to push him down into a sitting position on the closest rock. Taken off guard, he was easily maneuvered. He stared up at me with a look of astonishment so intense, I began squirming self-consciously.

"What?" I finally demanded.

"I can't believe you're here," Peter said.

"Where did you think I was?" I asked.

"At the bottom of the ocean," was Peter's candid reply.

I blinked, nonplussed. "Oh." I quickly shook off the thought. "You know, maybe you should have been named King Peter the Blunt," I quipped.

"It's true, Ed," Peter insisted. "When I saw that wave-and then you were just...gone."

I shuddered, for the memory was not a pleasant one. "Well, I'm here now."

Peter gave me a small, relieved smile. I returned it, knowing how close we had come to losing one another.


	2. Peter

Thank you for all the reviews, alerts and favorites! It's the nicest thing to have readers excited for a fic, even when only the first chapter has been posted =)

So here's the second chapter. I hope it answers some of the questions raised in the previous one.

As I did in my other Narnia fic, I will respond to anonymous reviewers at the bottom of the page ;)

* * *

 ** _Peter_**

"Come on, Ed. Hurry up!" I called over my shoulder before depositing a large cloth bundle into the bottom of the boat.

I did a quick mental review of our supplies. Enough bread, dried meat, and apples for four meals each between me and my brother, a sharp knife, a length of rope, and a couple of bedrolls. It was enough for the short excursion I had been planning for weeks. It had been three years into our reign and I felt as if I hadn't had a free moment since the coronation. Of course, I understood that rebuilding a country ravaged by the White Witch would take time. But I hadn't anticipated just how much time and energy it would require to restore peace and establish stability. But even knowing how important my duties were didn't mean I didn't tire of them.

One afternoon, during a court session involving land disputes between a Dwarf and a Faun, the idea came to me that I would like a break. It didn't have to be much. Just a short piece of time to myself, enough to refresh my mind and rejuvenate my energy. So it was that I began planning a birthday surprise for Edmund. Of course, his birthday was months ago but I hadn't had a private moment with my brother since longer than that, so it was only fair that I made up for it with a camping trip. The girls were more than capable of handling affairs for a day or so while I took Edmund sailing down the coast, and spent the night in the forest before heading back for the castle. Unfortunately, the opportunity for said trip did not arrive until weeks later. So it was a very long overdue, much anticipated outing. And now, Edmund was making me wait even longer.

"Ed!" I shouted impatiently, turning around and crossing my arms.

Eventually, Edmund stumbled out of the castle and down to the beach, dragging his feet through the sand and looking far less enthusiastic than I felt.

"There you are," I said.

Stifling a yawn, Edmund squinted blearily at me. "You do know it's the middle of the night, don't you?"

"It's practically dawn," I argued.

Edmund raised a doubtful eyebrow and glanced up at the dark sky. "No, I'm pretty sure it's still night." He fixed me with a disapproving glare. "And you said we weren't leaving until the morning."

I shrugged sheepishly. "I couldn't wait. It's just that I've been planning this for so long and-"

Holding up a hand to halt my ramblings, Edmund sighed. "Alright, I understand. And it will be nice to get to spend a day without all those boring meetings, history lessons, and etiquette training."

I grinned and thumped him on the back. "My thoughts exactly."

A short while later, we were pushing away from the shore and waving goodbye to the sentries on the ramparts. The sun was just beginning to lighten the sky in the east, the navy blue giving way to rose gold. While Edmund nodded off in the bow, I maintained control of the rudder. I kept the boat fairly close to the shore, watching the beach gradually shift into forest. The current carried us at a leisurely pace, guiding our boat along Narnia's coastline.

Shades of violet and tangerine swirled overhead as the sun continued to rise. I inhaled the scent of saltwater and fresh pine, reveling in the quiet beauty of nature. The water lapped at the sides of the boat, rocking it hypnotically. Edmund dozed on, allowing me the opportunity to study the maturing lines of his face. In three years, Edmund had grown from a sullen, gangly boy, into a confident, athletic teen. Pride warmed my chest and I forced myself to look away before I did something embarrassing, such as blubbering like a sentimental housewife. As I turned my eyes out to sea, I noticed another ship approaching.

The vessel flew no flag, and I couldn't repress the unease that caused me to tighten my grip on the rudder. As I watched, the other ship angled toward mine. Concerned, I kicked Edmund's boot to wake him.

"Edmund," I whispered.

"Leave me alone," Edmund mumbled with his eyes closed as he tucked his feet safely out of reach.

"Ed," I hissed.

"What?" Edmund irritably questioned, refusing to leave the comfort of his nap.

"Look," I urged.

Reluctantly, Edmund did as he was told. Instantly intrigued, he sat up. "Is that an Archenland vessel?"

"I can't tell," I admitted.

"Where's their flag?" Edmund asked, crossing the boat to peer more intently at the other ship.

"I don't think they have one," I said.

"An unmarked ship this close to the Cair? That can only mean trouble," Edmund predicted.

"Perhaps they lost it, or simply forgot to fly it," I suggested weakly.

Edmund's expression spoke as to what he thought of those ideas. I deflated.

"I know. It does seem rather suspicious, doesn't it?" I said.

Edmund hummed in agreement. "Almost as suspicious as them heading straight for us."

Alarmed, I realized he was right. The ship was sailing directly for us. As it drew closer, I could make out the shape of several men on the deck. The early morning light glinted off the drawn weapons in their hands. When I glanced at Edmund, I knew he had seen the same. Without prompting, I reached into the pack at my feet and pulled out the knife.

"That's all we have?" Edmund questioned incredulously.

"I was planning on a quiet day sailing with you, not battling pirates," I said defensively.

"What am I supposed to use?" Edmund asked hotly.

"Hopefully you won't need anything," I answered. "Their boat is larger than ours. We should be safe here in the shallower water."

Edmund didn't look convinced.

"What are they doing?" I wondered aloud, watching a flurry of activity taking place on the pirate ship.

My answer came in the form of a grappling hook the pirates launched from the mechanism they positioned on their deck. The metal hooks gripped the side of my royal skiff and, as the pirates rewound the chain it was attached to, reeled the boat out of the shallows and into deeper water.

"Peter," Edmund called in warning.

Readjusting my grip on the knife's hilt, I considered our options. We were overwhelmingly outnumbered, and with only a single blade between us, we had no chance of fighting our way out. The sea was empty of other ships, leaving no chance of outside support. The best course of action would be for us to jump overboard and swim for the shore. Before I could relay this information to Edmund, something hit the other ship, causing a jolt to reverberate through ours.

"What was that?" Edmund asked.

Another bump came, causing us to hold tightly to the side of our boat to avoid being thrown off. This time, I had glimpsed the distinct glitter of silver scales.

"Mermaids, Ed. It's the mermaids," I answered.

Edmund's eyes lit up and he grinned. "Looks like we've got some help after all."

I shared his excitement. Together, we watched the mermaids slice through the water and slam into the pirates' ship. There was a commotion on the other deck as the men scrambled to combat the unexpected threat. It wasn't long before one of them managed a lucky swing of the sword and I cringed at the cry of the mermaid he struck.

"We've got to help them," I said, turning to Edmund.

"How?" he asked. "There's still a good bit of water between us and them, and all we have is a single knife. How do you propose we come to the rescue of our rescuers?"

I knew he was right. His rational thinking always calmed my impulsive reactions. But it still didn't sit right with me to remain idle while my people were harmed. On the other ship, the pirates had apparently reorganized. Most of them focused on fighting off the merfolk, while a couple restarted the grappling mechanism. Edmund and I felt the distinct tug of the chain as it pulled us closer. All too soon, we were nearly right alongside the foreign vessel. I lifted my knife threateningly at the pirates. Suddenly, a loud crack sounded and the pirates began shouting and cursing.

"Yes!" Edmund cheered, for the mermaids had rammed the ship until it broke.

Water was now flooding the pirate vessel at an alarming rate. Chaos erupted as the pirates struggled to fix the damage, fend off the still attacking mermaids, and hold onto our skiff all at the same time. Flashes of silver darted out of the waves, striking the pirate ship with deadly precision, and widening the hole. Apparently realizing their boat was doomed, four of the pirates leaped off of it and onto ours. Edmund and I lost our balance as the ship rocked precariously from the force of their landing. Before we could regain our feet, we found swords at our throats.

"Gorrim," said the pirate standing over me. "Begin the spell."

"Aye, captain." A heavily tattooed man nodded his head and took a pouch from his belt, scattering the contents along our deck.

I caught a glimpse of bones and a strange gem before my attention was pulled back to the captain. He was tall, with a weather-beaten face half covered beneath a braided beard. His dark hair, which hung past his shoulders, was ornamented with glass beads and gold clasps.

"So, king, how do you fancy taking a voyage with us?" the captain mocked me. He glanced over at one of his crew. "Cul, cut us free."

The underling was quick to obey, hacking at the wood planks of our boat until the grappling hook was accessible. With a strong kick, he dislodged it from our boat and we bobbed unfettered in the waves. The water soon began pulling us away from where the mermaids and the rest of the pirates were engaged in a skirmish.

"Who are you?" Edmund demanded.

The pirate holding him prisoner kicked him in the ribs. I surged up, desiring to go to his aid, but the captain's blade prevented me. Although I could no longer see him, I heard the one called Gorrim begin a chant.

"Deam maris. Potestas tenebrarum. Audite me. Da mihi locum."*

The words were foreign, yet I did not have to understand them to know they were evil. The sky began to darken, thick clouds appearing from nowhere and blackening rapidly. Electricity crackled through the air, causing the hair on my neck to stand on end. Beneath us, the water grew choppy, stirred by an invisible hand.

"Deam maris. Potestas tenebrarum. Audite me. Da mihi locum."

The clouds burst, pelting us with large raindrops that stung. A wind rose from the west, howling and moaning as it caught our sail and propelled us with alarming speed further from the mainland. Frothy waves piled on top of one another, making the sea treacherous.

"Deam maris. Potestas tenebrarum. Audite me. Da mihi locum."

As the captain and his men looked around in smug wonder, I took a chance. In one swift move, I grabbed the captain's wrist and twisted it fiercely, causing him to drop his sword. With the sweep of my leg, I knocked his out from under him. As he tumbled to the deck, I scooped up his fallen sword. Before I could do anything more, a harsh voice froze me.

"One more move from you, Narnian scum, and I'll slit his throat."

My eyes cut to where the remaining pirate had a hand fisted in Edmund's hair and the blade of his sword pressed against his neck. Unwilling to risk it, no matter how Edmund's eyes burned in the growing darkness, I slowly lowered my weapon. The captain pushed himself up, chuckling.

"A bold move, your highness. Foolish, yet bold nonetheless." He calmly reclaimed his sword from me. "But I can't allow you to do so again. Cul, find something to bind him with."

The buccaneer soon discovered the pack with my supplies and drew out the rope. Eagerly, he wound it about my wrists while the captain's sword kept me immobile. A wave slammed against our small ship and we all stumbled. Thunder rumbled overhead and Gorrim raised his voice to be heard above it.

"Deam maris. Potestas tenebrarum. Audite me. Da mihi locum."

The sky was now pitch black, shattered every few seconds with a brilliant bolt of white lightning. The brief illumination revealed the waves were increasing in strength and height. At the mercy of the angry sea, our boat spun aimlessly through the water. Satisfied that I was restrained, the captain turned his attention on Edmund.

"So this is Narnia's traitor king," he sneered.

"Hey!" I snapped.

Edmund's face never changed, though I saw the tick in the muscle near his left eye, the minute tightening of his jaw. I didn't know who these men were, or where they had come from, but they had no right to bring up the past. Edmund had long since been forgiven, and his actions accordingly forgotten and no longer held against him.

"He would fit right in as one of us, don't you think, lads?" the captain taunted.

His followers guffawed in amusement. The captain abruptly snatched Edmund by the chin, turning his face this way and that. He released him soon after, only to backhand him with enough force to send him reeling. He would have collapsed if not for the pirate who still held him by the upper arms.

"Do not dare touch him again!" I roared. "That is my royal brother and you shall pay for your actions!"

"You mean you forbid me from doing this?" the captain questioned in faux innocence before striking Edmund once more.

I lunged forward but Cul grabbed me and halted my movement.

"Listen well, king," the captain growled, whirling around to face me. "You have no crown here. You have no authority. You have no power. You are mine now. And I will do with my property as I see fit." So saying, he drew a dagger from his belt and advanced on Edmund menacingly.

"Deam maris. Potestas tenebrarum. Audite me. Da mihi locum."

At that moment, a giant wall of water rose from the depths, outlined by a lightning strike. It seemed frozen a moment, poised just over our vessel. The captain's mouth dropped open.

"Brace yourselves!" he warned, reaching for the single mast of the boat.

As if his word had been the signal it was waiting for, the wave crashed down on us. I found myself pinned beneath the weight of Cul, who flung himself to the deck as the water descended. Once the surge receded, I sought Edmund's eyes. But he was nowhere to be seen. The pirates were picking themselves up from where they had fallen, but my brother was not among them.

"Edmund?" I called.

Gorrim resumed his chant, though his voice was less certain than it had been. "Deam maris. Potestas tenebrarum. Audite me. Da mihi locum."

The rain lashed us with terrible strength as the storm raged on, gaining intensity.

"Edmund!" I screamed, realizing he had been washed away with the wave.

I stepped to the edge of the boat, intending to jump overboard to find him. But Cul's beefy arms hooked around my torso and restrained me again.

"Where do you think you're going?" the captain asked, shaking his head to dislodge the water from his hair.

"My brother-" I started.

"Is gone," he interrupted cruelly. "And I'm not about to lose you as well. Half the prize is worth more than no prize."

"D-deam maris. P-p-potestas tenebrarum. Au-" Gorrim's stuttering words were drowned out by the explosion of the loudest clap of thunder I'd ever heard in my life.

"Gorrim! What's happening?" the captain roared, although I could detect the fear in his voice.

"I-I'm not sure. I can't seem to quite c-control it any longer," Gorrim replied.

Our ship rose and sunk in quick succession, helpless against the elements. I took advantage of the situation, driving my elbow into the gut of the pirate behind me. Already unsteady from the rocking motion of the boat, he easily fell to the deck, releasing me from his grip. Without hesitation, I moved behind him and slung my looped hands around his neck. With the rope against his throat, I pulled up and back on my arms, causing the rope to tighten. Cul flailed desperately but I avoided his unskilled attempts to reach me. Sheets of rain continued to pour from the dark clouds, obscuring my actions from the rest of the pirate band. Only once Cul's body went limp did I unhook my arms. I dropped to my knees, searching by the unpredictable illumination of lightning for the fallen man's sword in order to cut my bonds.

Thunder rumbled so savagely I felt it reverberating in my chest. The wind was driving us at an incredible speed, yanking at our clothes and flinging the rain into our faces. The pirates were swearing, the captain yelling futilely at Gorrim to employ more magic to manage the storm. He broke off suddenly, then cursed and flung himself overboard. His minions followed his lead. I glanced up in time to see a burst of lightning reveal a collection of jagged rocks only seconds before the ship crashed into them.

* * *

*Goddess of the Sea. Power of Darkness. Hear me. Guide me (according to Google translate at least, haha!)

NarniaGirl: Wow! I had no idea! Would it be okay if I clarified that in the A/N for the next chapter?

ForNarnia: You're welcome :) You deserved it!

Girl Yaas: In case this chapter didn't clear it up, yes this is set early in the Golden Age. I'm picturing them somewhere around 21 and 19 respectively. But of course, I follow movie ages, not book ages so feel free to imagine them younger if you're more traditional than I am ;)

DorothyDryad: You certainly are curious, haha! I hope this chapter satisfied you a bit.

AslanLover: Please do!

Melanie45: Thanks!

Guest: Great!

ChildofGod: *fumbles to catch flowers and candy without dropping laptop* (the laptop I'm still typing away on since this story isn't quite finished yet...)

Robinangel9: I certainly plan to!

MarryMePeter: Thank you for the idea! It's intriguing and I'd like to write it. I'm just not sure when I'd actually have the time to :/

CinnamonRoll4Lif: Those are my favs too!


	3. Edmund 2

Okay, I'm very embarrassed. *insert blush here* I made a mistake in calculating their ages and thankfully, some reviewers have graciously pointed that out to me. So hopefully I'll get it right this time. In my head, I picture them in LWW as the movie actors and aged 17 and 13. So I set this story approximately three years into their reign, which should make them 20 and 16 actually. No, I don't go by the book ages. But please feel free to stick to your own preference for age. I apologize for the confusion (I don't know how I messed up the first time, even according to my own head canon ages, haha!)

And...on a more important note: the identity of Just a Faun (the reviewer who prompted this entire story) has been revealed to me! It was actually **NarniaGirl**! I just wanted everyone to know so that she can get the full credit she deserves :D

* * *

 _ **Edmund**_

"So how long do you suppose we'll be stuck here?" I asked, glancing over at Peter.

He squinted up at the sky, estimating the sun's position. "It can't be much past midday now. And no one's expecting us home until tomorrow afternoon at least."

"Perhaps the mermaids will go to the Cair and tell everyone about the pirates," I suggested brightly.

"That's possible," Peter acknowledged. "Although, I'm not sure how they'll get to us. It's not as though Narnia has any seaworthy vessels."

"Our skiff managed fine in the storm," I protested.

Peter raised an eyebrow at me and pointed at the heap of wood that used to be our boat.

"You know, it is rather an oversight on our part," I commented.

Peter looked at me quizzically.

"Our lack of a navy, I mean," I said.

Considering my words, Peter nodded. "You're right. That's something we should probably look into when we get back."

"We've never even been to the Lone Islands, apart from that time we went with King Lune's entourage," I pointed out.

Peter nodded.

"You don't think this could be one of them, do you?" I asked hopefully.

"I doubt it," Peter replied. "I don't see any sign of civilization. As far as I can tell, we're the first ones to step foot on this island."

"Well, that's wonderful," I grumbled sarcastically.

"Cheer up, Ed." Peter clapped me on the back. "I know this isn't quite the trip I had planned, but at least we're still getting some time off."

"Yes. And it only took murderous pirates and a magically conjured storm in order for us to have it," I quipped.

"Such is the life of kings," Peter returned with a wry smile.

"Am I the only one who's starving?" I asked, completely changing the subject.

Peter chuckled. "You're always hungry, Ed."

"I wonder if any of our food survived the journey," I said.

"Only one way to find out." Peter jumped onto the smashed deck of our ship, and I followed close behind.

This time, looking into the boat instead of around it, I found something I hadn't seen at first. One of the pirates lay face down on the wooden planks. Cautiously, I rolled him over with the tip of my boot. His open eyes stared up at me and I startled. My initial assumption was that he had died in the wreck. But when I knelt for a closer inspection, I discovered a ring of purple around his neck, the band perfectly fitted to a length of rope. I could find no rope around the body. The only rope I had seen apart from the cord dangling from the mast was the one around Peter's wrists. A chill crept over me and I raised my eyes to find Peter looking directly at me. He didn't offer an explanation, and I found my mouth suddenly too dry to ask. I glanced away first, and heard his boots move farther up the small deck.

"Here."

An apple landed directly in my lap.

"It's all I could find," Peter said.

I wordlessly rose and moved to get off the boat. Peter did the same, stopping briefly to pick up the dead pirate's sword and placing it in his own belt. We found a dry spot in the sand, a little ways off from the boat, and sat down. We didn't speak for some time. I munched on the apple and Peter stared at the sea. When I was halfway finished with the fruit, I offered it to Peter. He hesitated before taking it and finishing it off. When he was done, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve and tossed the core toward the waterline.

"That was a nice snack but I doubt it will be enough to last until tomorrow afternoon," I said, voice oddly loud in the hush of the surf and the breeze.

Peter didn't answer.

"We should probably try to find some other food. Or at least fresh water," I continued.

Again, Peter gave no verbal response.

"Perhaps in the jungle?" I suggested.

Peter sighed, reluctantly moving his gaze from the water to me. "No, we wait here."

"But Peter, we're both hungry and thirsty. It'll do no one any good if all they find is a couple of skeletons when they come looking for us," I wheedled.

"Don't be so dramatic, Ed," Peter replied. "Besides, it's too dangerous. We don't know what's in there, if there are any dangerous creatures, or if there's even anything edible. And what happens if we get lost, hm? Then we've no chance of a rescue."

I lowered my head, knowing he was right but not liking the implications of what he was saying.

"The best thing we can do is pray for a swift rescue, and wait for it right here," Peter said in his high-kingly tone of finality.

A knife suddenly thumped into the sand between us, the tip pointed down, handle quivering from the force of the throw. Peter and I blinked at it in astonishment for its sheer unexpectedness before we scrambled to our feet and started running. The attack had come from the direction of the ship, leaving us no choice but to head away from the only shelter on the flat beach.

"Who did that?" I asked, struggling to match Peter's stride through the shifting sand.

"One of the other pirates," Peter said, glancing over his shoulder. "Ed, get down!"

He shoved me hard in the back and I fell. A second throwing knife whizzed through the air above me, landing nearby. I reached out to pick it up, but Peter was already hauling me to my feet and propelling me forward.

"We have to go into the jungle," I said.

"What?" Peter asked incredulously. "Didn't we just discuss why that was a bad idea?"

"That was before there was a knife-throwing maniac trying to kill us," I protested.

"No," Peter said, luckily dodging another projectile.

I nearly rolled my eyes at his stubbornness. "We're on a beach right now. There's nowhere to hide. We're easy targets!"

Peter's face telegraphed his displeasure but he grabbed my arm and tugged in the direction of the trees. We had only passed the first few trees when Peter abruptly stopped, sending a jolt through my arm from the quick stop. We ducked behind a thick tree trunk and waited, doing our best to stifle our panting breaths.

"So who is he?" I whispered.

At first, Peter looked cross that I had spoken but he relented and answered back quietly. "I never heard his name. But he's the one who was holding you."

"If he's here, where are the others?" I asked.

Peter shrugged, peering cautiously around the tree. "I don't know. They jumped off right before the crash."

"How many knives do you think he has left?" I queried.

The mentioned weapon slammed into the bark of our chosen tree.

"At least one more," Peter said before springing away.

I went after him. The course was not easy. It was drastically different from the times I spent romping with the forest creatures in the Western Wood. In my own dear realm, the ground was hard packed from the passage of many feet and hooves. The Trees were alive, moving and dancing, swaying. The air itself felt pure and crisp. Here, in this jungle, the ground was treacherously damp, coated with slimy fallen leaves and loose clumps of dirt. The trees were just trees, tall, thick, foreign pillars of wood, covered in vines, with wild roots snaking every which way. Moisture in the air made it hang thick and heavy, until it felt more like it was clogging my lungs rather than sustaining them. I pushed forward, even as large leaves slapped my body and twisted vines scratched my cheeks as I passed.

Behind us, I could hear the crash of our pursuer through the foliage. He was getting closer. And then my foot snagged on a root and I tumbled to the jungle floor. Peter immediately noticed and came to my side.

"Come on, Edmund," he urged, yanking at my arm.

"I'm stuck!" I yelped, realizing my boot was twisted sideways beneath the root.

Peter bent to inspect it but jerked upright when the pirate came barreling out of the trees. He never slowed his pace, charging straight into Peter and knocking them both to the ground. He had a knife in his hand, I could see the glint of it in the meager sunlight filtering through the tree branches. With a gleeful smile, showcasing a golden front tooth, he straddled Peter and raised the knife, prepared to plunge it into my brother's chest. Bringing his crossed forearms up, Peter caught the blow before it could land. The pirate snarled at him, lifting his arm from Peter's block. He brought the knife down near Peter's head, though Peter was quick enough to jerk away from it. Undeterred, his opponent tried again to hit his chest. Peter caught his wrist and the two grappled awkwardly for control of the knife. Feeling absurdly useless, I dug around in the leaves and dirt for a makeshift weapon. All I found was a moss covered stone. With as much strength as I could manage from my sitting position, I flung the rock at the pirate. It bounced off his bicep, but it served its purpose as a distraction. When he turned to look at me, Peter bucked up, causing the man to lose his center of gravity. From there, it was an easy thing for Peter to roll, dislodging the pirate completely. Before he could recover, Peter was on him. He wrestled the knife from his hand and stabbed it into his chest. The man twitched, once, twice, and went still. Peter held onto the knife a moment longer, then he snatched his hands away and stumbled to his feet, hurriedly backing up from the corpse. I angled my leg around and slid my foot free, rising to stand beside my brother. He was gulping in copious amounts of the humid air, cheeks flushed red.

"His dagger, Peter," I murmured.

Peter startled, whipping his head around to look at me. "What?"

"I still need a weapon," I explained. "Just in case."

"Oh. Right."

Even though I had planned on retrieving the item myself, Peter was faster. He reached down and unfastened the sheathed dagger from the pirate's belt, handing it to me. It was bigger than I had first thought. It measured from my elbow to fingertip, causing me to modify my label from dagger to short sword.

"Let's get back to the beach," Peter said, tone subdued.

"Do you remember the way?" I asked, knowing how we had changed direction multiple times in an attempt to shake our pursuer.

The corner of Peter's mouth lifted. "It shouldn't be too hard to find our trail. We weren't exactly being subtle."

I nodded. I had already learned some of the basics of tracking, so following the path of cracked branches and muddy boot prints would be no problem for me. However, when I turned around, I could see no indication of disturbance in the scenery around me.

"Uh, Peter?" I called, hoping I was merely overlooking the evidence of our mad dash through the vegetation.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Is it just me, or has every trace of us disappeared?" I questioned.

Peter's eyebrows knit. "What?"

I pointed straight ahead. "Shouldn't there be some broken branches, or torn off leaves, or kicked up dirt right here? Something, anything? We just ran through there not five minutes ago."

Peter took a couple steps forward, lightly touching the pristine plants that I knew we had trampled in our flight. He pursued his lips. "It does seem odd."

Odd didn't seem sufficient enough for the feeling of unease the jungle created in me. As we stood there, I came to notice how there was no noise of animal life. There were no birds calling, no insects buzzing, no predators roaming, no critters foraging. Like the beach, it was unnaturally silent. But at least on the beach, there had been sunlight and a clean breeze. In here, under the dome of thick greenery, there was neither. What little light did come through was tinted and murky. And the air was so thick. It reminded me of a time when I was younger, back in England, when we'd been playing hide and seek. I had hidden in a small cabinet and it took Susan a while to find me. The longer I had remained in the confined space, the more stale the air had become. This air had the same stagnant quality, only exacerbated by the fact that it was also humid here. The moisture in the still air was cloying and the more I thought about it, the more certain I became that I couldn't breathe.

There wasn't enough oxygen. I wasn't getting anything into my chest but the dirt scented mugginess of the jungle. My chest started heaving and I bent in half to brace my hands on my knees. Black spots ate away at my vision, starting at the corners and spinning closer. I was going to die. There was nothing I could do about it. This alien jungle was slowly strangling me and I was helpless. The humidity was a solid pressure on my shoulders, pushing me down, wringing sweat from my body. I was going to melt, consumed by the moist heat, the lack of light, the silence.

I sluggishly raised my eyes, and found Peter's face close to mine. His lips were moving and I forced myself to think past the discomfort until I could hear what he was saying.

"-mund! Breathe! Calm down and breathe! Like me. Come on, Ed. Edmund!"

As if breaking the surface after being submerged in water for a long time, I gasped. Peter smiled encouragingly.

"That's it. Come on, Edmund. Breathe. You can do it."

I took another large breath, filling my lungs until they were achingly full. I held the air in my rib cage just a moment longer, before I slowly let it out. After that, my regular respiratory rhythm returned and my head cleared.

Sheepish, I cleared my throat. "I'm sorry."

"You should be. You gave me quite a scare," Peter grumbled, his irritation doing a poor job of masking his worry. "What was that? Did you have some kind of fit or seizure?"

My cheeks flushed. "No. It wasn't anything like that. I just…" I trailed off, unsure how to explain what had happened. "There's something about this jungle," I ended up saying instead. It wasn't really an answer, nor was it a logical presentation of my misgivings. But rather than press me to communicate more efficiently, Peter only gave a slight nod.

"I know. I can feel it too." His eyes scanned the trees around us, and I recognized his expression as one of suspicion. "It's as if this place is...evil."

Now that he had put a label to it, I realized that was exactly what I had been sensing, even if I hadn't been able to find the word myself. Suddenly, I was bursting with impatience to get back to the beach.

"We have to leave. Right now," I said, spinning on my heel and shoving vines out of my way as I sprinted off.

"Edmund, wait!"

I heard Peter's cry but I was already speeding my pace, the desire to be free like an unbearable itch. I hadn't gotten very far before a hand on my collar yanked me backward. Bucking against it, I strained to push on. But Peter was stronger than I was, and he held me in place until I finally gave up my useless struggles.

"You idiot! What were you thinking?" Peter snapped.

"I have to get out of here," I said earnestly.

"Well, it might help if you went the right way," Peter suggested heatedly. "And you might actually wait for me next time."

I couldn't quite make myself apologize, so I settled for hanging my head and allowing him to lead the way. I supposed he was taking us back the way we had come, although the tangled vines and thick tree trunks all looked the same to me. Because I was looking at the jungle around me, I didn't notice when Peter abruptly stopped and I smacked into his back.

"Now who's the idiot?" I muttered moodily.

Peter didn't answer and I stepped past him, only to freeze as well. We had returned to the place where the pirate attacked us. But the body was no longer there. The man's throwing knife, which Peter had used against him, was in the same spot. Aside from that, nothing remained of the fight. There was no corpse, no blood. Even the knife was spotless.

"This is the place, isn't it?" Peter queried, uncertain.

I pointed at the ground. "Yes. Look, there's root I tripped over."

"Then where's….?" Peter trailed off.

I swallowed hard and glanced nervously at the jungle crowded around us. Perhaps something had carried off the corpse. Maybe a monster. And maybe it was still here, lurking just out of sight. It could have been in a tree. Or maybe hanging from a vine. Or crouched under a bush. Or hidden behind a rock. Perhaps it was that shadow, in the corner of my eye. I whirled around, drawing my appropriated short sword. Peter did the same, out of reflex rather than reason.

"What is it, Ed?" he whispered, weapon held at the ready.

After peering more intently into the gloom, I decided it was only my mind playing tricks on me. "Nothing. Nevermind," I grunted, sheathing my blade.

Peter was slower to put his sword away. "Come on. The beach should be this way."

He ended up having to draw it again soon after, as there were patches of bushes or vines that were impassable and hindered our progress. Peter hacked at them with the pirate sword until there was room for us to go on. Some plants oozed a sticky sap when he cut them and we both avoided touching the stuff. No matter the time we spent in it, the only change I could see in the jungle was that it seemed to get more menacing. The humidity, the quiet, the absence of animals, all of that stayed the same. But somehow, the longer we plodded on through the overgrowth, the more uneasy I grew. After about an hour, I broke the silence.

"Shouldn't we have reached the beach by now?" I asked timidly, hunching my shoulders against the looming shapes of the ancient trees.

Peter snorted. "Of course you would ask that."

"What do you mean?" I frowned at the uncalled for hostility in his voice.

"You don't trust me to get us there," Peter accused, beating at the next section of foliage with unnecessary force.

"Are you even sure you're going the right way?" I questioned, bristling at his tone.

"Do you honestly believe you can do better?" Peter snapped.

I shrugged with faux nonchalance. "Oh, I don't know. But seeing as how I'm King of the Western Wood, I think I might have a better chance navigating through trees than you do."

The rigid line of Peter's back showed me that I had landed a strike. I knew he had claustrophobia, which always seemed to manifest in his discomfort among the tightly packed trees and gloomy shadows of forests.

"But I'm the High King. So I should lead," he grit out through clenched teeth, shoving his way forward through the jungle.

"Yeah, you get a fancy title and think it makes you special," I taunted, slapping away the branch that Peter let swing after him.

"At least I make a better choice for a king than you do," Peter sneered. "After all you were a-" he clamped his mouth shut on the end of his sentence.

I stopped dead in my tracks, feeling the blood rush to my face. "A what?"

He froze, his back to me.

"Go on. Say it, Peter," I challenged, anger flooding hot through me.

Slowly, Peter turned around. His expression was one of conflicted confusion. He squeezed his eyes shut, brought a hand to his forehead and rubbed it as if trying to relieve a headache. Shaking his head, he opened his eyes and looked at me with regret.

"Edmund, I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said," he apologized. "I have no right to bring up the past, or to use it against you like that. You know I've already forgiven you for it, ever since that day on the field of Beruna."

His apology doused my ire, and I lowered the fist I hadn't even known I'd raised.

"I-I'm sorry too," I said, wondering how I could have let myself get so worked up.

"I think this place is getting to me," Peter offered with a self-deprecating smile.

"To us," I corrected.

"Well then, we'll have to be more careful," Peter resolved, extending the hilt of his sword to me.

At first, I didn't understand. When he gestured ahead of himself, I realized he wanted me to take the lead. I gave him a grateful, determined nod, and stepped in front. I sliced through the tangle of leaves that blocked our path. They fell away to reveal a clearing in the jungle.

And in the middle of it was a gigantic pile of bones.

* * *

NarniaGirl: I would love to hear more of your ideas! Please let me know if this story gets off track from what you imagined and maybe I can fix it into something more like what you wanted ;)

Girl Yaas: Hopefully I cleared up the miscommunication. I appreciate you pointing that out to me ;) And yes, if you like them younger, of course you should picture them younger (although I personally like them a bit older seeing as how they have to do certain things-such as killing-to survive)

ChildofGod: Thanks! *absentmindedly reaches for a candy to snack on while I write* *accidentally eats a flower*

ForNarnia: I'm not sure if there are any black magic pirate practitioners, but for the sake of this story there was ;) I guess I kind of wanted it to go fast (it is an action chapter so I'd fail as an author if it dragged) but I'm glad you liked it anyway!

CinnamonRoll4Lif: I've never been told that before. But that's a good thing, right?

Guest: Did the author's note clarify their ages for you? I think that's the plainest I can explain it.

ArtistKurai: Thanks! No one's ever accused pirates of being the smartest bunch ;)


	4. Peter 2

The good news is I'm posting another chapter this week! The bad news is that the only reason I'm able to do so is because I caught a stomach bug and so I had to call off work today :(

* * *

 _ **Peter**_

The mountain of bones was gigantic. It reached halfway up the nearby trees, and was nearly as wide as the clearing itself. As far as I could tell, the bones were all animal. I was able to identify rib cages of large cats, several fish spines, lots of bird skulls, and quite a few monkey arms. The turtle shells were easy to spot, and the distinct shape of the snake skeletons were too. Some bones were big, likely belonging to animals such as boars. Some were small, which I guessed were rodents. There were so many mixed together, it was impossible to distinguish them all, let alone try to count them. There were some I had never seen anything like, and could only imagine what kind of creature they had come from. The skeletons were bare, without any trace of scale, feather, fur, or flesh.

"At least now we know where all the animals are," Edmund quipped.

I shot him a glare. The gruesome display unnerved me. My scowl had no effect on my brother. With all the enthusiasm of a world renowned archaeologist, he circled around the pile, whistling at its magnitude.

"I say, there's got to be every animal on this island right here," he exclaimed.

His words launched my brain to the conclusion that, unless a strange phenomenon caused all the animals to gather in one place to die at the same time (unlikely considering how fish have no legs), something had to have put them here. And if there was a being on this island that could kill every other living thing and drag their corpses here to rot until all that was left were the bones, I had no desire to meet it.

"Edmund, get over here," I snapped suddenly.

"No, Peter, you'd better get over here," Edmund returned, voice sounding weak.

For a moment, I didn't move, debating whether or not I should use my rank as high king and command him to obey. Considering our earlier argument, and my own abhorrence of the idea of abusing my power, I dismissed the thought and carefully skirted around the edge of the morbid collection.

"What is it?" I asked as I got near his side of it.

In lieu of a verbal response, Edmund pointed with a shaky finger to something in front of him. I fully rounded the corner and was able to see what had upset him. It was a human skeleton. With a golden tooth. The pirate I had fought only an hour ago. A chill crept over me. The bones were stipped clean. As I slowly backed away from the skeleton, the gold in the tooth glinted in the faint sunlight and I got an idea.

"The sun," I murmured.

"What?" Edmund said.

"The sun," I said. "All we have to do is follow the sun. The boat crashed on the south side of the island so we can use the sun as a compass to get back."

My excitement grew as I explained my plan. We could leave this haunting place. I wondered that I hadn't thought of this sooner.

Edmund tilted his head considering the idea. "I suppose it might work. Although, it is a bit hard to see the sun through all the leaves." He craned his head back to look at the sky and his expression changed to one of fear. "Peter, it's getting dark."

I glanced up sharply. He was right. Already the light was fading. We exchanged looks of concern.

"What are we going to do?" Edmund asked quietly.

The raised hairs on the back of my neck and the twisting in my stomach told me to run. To recklessly run, without thought, without reason, without stopping. Just run. Run and run and run. Because there was something evil in this jungle. And it was going to find us. It was going to kill us. It was going to eat us.

I swallowed my panic and forced myself to sound more confident than I was. "Let's think about this _logically_."

Edmund managed a thin smile at my reference to Susan's favorite word.

"We know it's not safe here in the jungle so we want to get back to the beach. Without map, compass, or sun, it's going to be difficult," I said. "But not impossible," I added with a optimistic wink. "As we saw from the beach, the jungle doesn't fill the whole island. Therefore, we have a limited amount of jungle to travel before we reach the end of it. All we have to do is keep moving."

"And what if we end up walking in circles?" Edmund questioned glumly.

I could always count on my brother to find the gloomy side of things. I brushed a hand through the air as if physically pushing away his pessimism.

"Come on, Ed. Think cheerful thoughts," I said.

Much to my surprise, and pleasure, he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. "Alright. We're going to get out of this place. Aslan help us, we're going to get out."

"That's the spirit," I grinned. "Now, we've still got some light left. Let's make the most of it."

Edmund meekly handed me back my weapon. Accepting the lead once more, I set off purposefully at a brisk pace.

The lush greenery surrounding me would have been beautiful if I had the luxury of enjoying it. Every plant thrived in the rich soil, growing large and wild, untouched by the pruner's blade. The trees pressed heavenward, covered in untamable vines. I kept my gaze locked ahead, sure of my task. But as we continued on through it, my initial optimism faded, replaced by the tendency to lose focus. My thoughts drifted, meandering about my brain in no particular order. Sometimes I speculated about where the sand ended and the dirt began. Sometimes I contemplated the fact that Centaurs have two stomachs. Sometimes I wondered if the trees liked having all the climbing plants hanging all over them like they were. Once, I even caught myself meditating on the size of my boot. Each time my focus wandered, I found it harder to find again. After such an instance of struggling to concentrate, I came back to myself and discovered that I had apparently stumbled upon a stream at some point during my mental lapse. This caused me worry. If I couldn't pay attention to where I was going, how was I supposed to navigate the way through the jungle? I wrestled with my ego for a long minute before deciding that if I wanted to ensure our safety, I would have to admit my failures to my brother. I looked over my shoulder to talk to him but he wasn't behind me. His absence instantly banished all the frivolous thoughts from my mind.

"Edmund?" I called anxiously. "Edmund?"

I spun on my heel, scanning the jungle for him, and found him kneeling beside the stream. He was greedily gulping the water from his cupped hands. I stalked over to him.

"Edmund, stop!" I yelled.

He finished the handful he had and glared up at me. "Why?"

"Because this place is evil and we don't know what's in that water," I explained impatiently.

With a snort, he scooped up more water. "Places can't be evil, Peter."

"The water could be enchanted," I protested. "Or poisonous."

He only rolled his eyes and drank it. When he was done, he wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. "Or it could be perfectly fine."

"But we don't know-" I started.

"I was thirsty," Edmund interrupted irritably. "And I'm hungry. I haven't had anything to eat or drink aside from that half an apple and that was hours ago."

His complaints caused me to think of my own, and I couldn't help but admit that my mouth was aching for a touch of liquid, that my stomach clenched hollowly, and a dull throb pounded in my head periodically. The water did look tempting. It was crystal clear, running smoothly over a pebbled bottom. Hesitant, I gingerly lowered myself to my knees and dipped my hands into the water. It was wonderfully cool, such a stark contrast to the oppressive humidity in the air. I brought the water to my lips and sampled it. It instantly soothed my parched throat, though it left a mineral taste on the back of my tongue. I closed my eyes to savor the sensation of the liquid refreshing me. When I opened them, Edmund was smirking at me.

"I told you so," he gloated.

I didn't care then if he was being a smug little prig. All I knew was that I needed more water. I couldn't get it to my mouth fast enough. I plunged my hands into the stream over and over, spilling it down the front of my shirt in my haste to drink it. It felt so good, I splashed some on my face and across my neck, allowing it to wash away the sweat. Feeling rejuvenated, I glanced at Edmund. He was leaning forward for another drink and I couldn't resist. Without warning, I gave him a friendly shove between the shoulder blades and sent him headlong into the water. It wasn't deep enough to do more than wet the edge of his shirt and the front of his trousers, but his high pitched yelp of surprise caused me to explode into a fit of laughter. After pushing himself back into his position on the bank next to me, he grudgingly gave into a few chuckles of his own. I knew he wanted revenge so I was prepared for the shove he aimed at me. But I forgot Edmund was a persistent bloke and his next attack came sooner than I anticipated and this time I was the one tumbling into the stream. Except for the rock that scraped my palm when I put out my hands to catch myself, I came away with no worse wetting than he. Until I pulled on his ankle and he landed on his rear next to me. We laughed as we engaged in a wrestling match, each trying to stand while pushing the other back into the water. I couldn't remember the last time we'd been like this-just two brothers messing around with each other. Finally I managed to shove him over far enough that he was too busy picking himself up to have time to grab me as I clambered onto the shore.

"I win," I declared with a giant grin on my face.

"Only because you cheated," Edmund grumbled playfully.

"You're the one who forgot to establish the rules before we began. No rules, no rule-breaking," I cheekily defended, holding out a hand to help him up.

He shook his head before laughing softly. "I'll remember that for next time."

His light-hearted expression switched instantaneously to one of apprehension. "Did you hear that?" he asked in a whisper, eyes skittering nervously through the trees around us, his hand reflexively seeking mine.

"Hear wh-?" I started but was interrupted by a far off howl.

Edmund's hand latched onto mine, his fingers circling my wrist painfully tight. I yanked him to his feet but he held on a moment longer, staring at me.

I stared back. "That sounded like a…"

"Werewolf," he confirmed, the waver in his voice betraying the mask he quickly schooled his face into.

"But how is that possible?" I wondered, checking the twilight sky through the tree branches. "It's not dark yet."

"Unless…" Edmund trailed off, snatching my wrist again. He flipped it over to expose the cut on my palm. We both stared at the blood sluggishly leaking out. When he raised his gaze to lock with mine, his eyes were full of guilt.

"Peter, I'm sorry," he said.

I pulled my hand away, wiping it clean on my pants. "It's not your fault."

"But I pushed you," he insisted.

"I pushed you first," I reminded him.

"And now there's a werewolf out there with your scent," he finished gloomily. "How long until it finds us, do you think?"

I had no answer. I could only shrug and watch the stream glide by. The stream was gliding by. It was moving. The water was flowing from its source in the jungle down to the beach where it would join the sea. Excitement lit up my face and I smacked Edmund's arm to get his attention.

"Ed, the stream!"

He frowned at me. "You have a bad habit of talking in incomplete sentences."

"No, think about it. The stream," I repeated.

"Alright. The stream," Edmund echoed, still not comprehending my meaning.

"It's moving," I hinted.

"Yes, it is," he agreed patronizingly.

"Where's it going?" I prompted.

I saw the moment the understanding dawned on him. "Thank Aslan," he breathed. "We can follow it to the beach!"

I nodded eagerly. "Come on!"

* * *

NarniaGirl: I'm relieved to hear your (undeserved) praise! The nice thing about the Narnia series is that age actually doesn't matter too much. Fans can pick whichever age they want the Pevensies to be and the story could still work, imho.

Girl Yaas: Thanks for being understanding about the age thing :) You're too kind! Honestly, sometimes I wonder if I even have a particular writing style so it makes me happy to hear that you enjoy reading it anyway.

CinnamonRoll4Lif: Did they like this chapter?

ChildofGod: Yes, she's brilliant, isn't she? ;) It is a little like that. I can only assume that my stomach bug wasn't connected to that flower I ate ;P


	5. Edmund 3

See, this is why I like to make sure I finish a story before I start posting. Otherwise, updates are sporadic and I feel terrible for it since you all leave such wonderful and encouraging reviews!

* * *

 _ **Edmund**_

Finally, we had a certain way to leave this place. All we had to do was follow the stream. Then we could be out of the jungle, and all the dangers it hid. Peter was modeling a fast pace and I approved, matching my steps to his. The terrain was fairly smooth and easily traversable close to the stream. I focused on Peter's shoulders in front of me, though his shape became blurred in the increasingly dim light. Every now and then, I would feel the unmistakable crawl under my skin that came from being watched. When I looked around, I thought I saw eyes gleaming in the shadows. But nothing jumped out at us and we continued on our way in peace. Hope was swelling in me. We were nearly there. We had to be. We must be close to the beach. To fresh air. The sound of waves against sand. Clear sky above. Room to breathe. Free from the oppressive taint of evil.

By now, the sun had disappeared, though there must have been a glorious moon since Peter remained visible. His thinking seemed to have been similar to mine, for he turned to look over his shoulder at me with an optimistic smile.

"Don't worry, Ed. We're almost-"

A flash of pale fur and curved claws burst out of the trees and slammed into Peter, knocking him into the underbrush. It happened so fast that I stood motionless for a moment, trying to process what had just occurred. The fronds of the nearby foliage concealed the fight taking place, though the shaking of the leaves and the snapping branches were evidence enough. Abruptly, I recovered and found enough presence of mind to draw my sword. No sooner had I done so than Peter and his attacker rolled back out into the open. I could see now what it was. The werewolf. He was snapping his jaws at Peter, who struggled to free himself while avoiding the fangs coming to perilously close to biting into him.

"Manflesh," the beast panted, eyes wild with anticipation. "Blood and bone. Manflesh."

Peter grimaced, twisting and squirming under the thing. I stepped forward, taking advantage of its single mindedness. With a hard thrust, I shoved my sword into its side. He wriggled on the blade a moment, head jerking to the side to pierce me with his feral eyes. Then he toppled lifelessly to the jungle floor. Peter got to his feet, breathing hard.

"Thanks, Ed," he gasped.

I looked over at him. "You're welco-" I stopped mid sentence.

"What?" he asked.

With a shaky finger I pointed at the front of his tunic. "Blood."

Panicked, he inspected himself with frantic movements that lacked all his usual grace and confidence.

"Did it…?" I couldn't bear to finish the question.

After a tense moment of waiting, Peter shook his head, relieved. "It's not mine. This is from when you stabbed it."

I laughed, releasing the breath I'd unconsciously held. Peter joined in. Eventually, we quieted down.

"Do you think this is the one responsible for all those bones we found?" I asked, tipping my head to indicate the dead werewolf.

Peter nodded. "Probably."

"How do you think it ended up here?" I queried.

"Don't know." Peter shrugged. "But I don't think it matters. Let's go."

A rustling in the branches above my head spooked me and I cringed. Peter sent me a quizzical look. I waved him off, attributing my hypersensitivity to the kill I'd just made.

"Clean your sword and we'll be on our way," Peter said.

I moved forward to pull the weapon from the werewolf when something sharp dug into my shoulders and I was suddenly lifted off the ground.

"Edmund!"

I was rapidly hauled through the air, the ground seeming so far below. I could hear the flap of wings, but no matter how I tried craning my neck to catch a glimpse of the creature that had me, I could see nothing but the green of the jungle and the black of the sky. It was not a pleasant journey. The trees were just as closely tangled together up here as they were on the ground. I was constantly hit with branches, slapping my face, banging against my legs, my arms, my torso. I squirmed as much as I could, given the awkward angle I was being carried in. The thing bent its head down to check what was the matter, so I found myself almost nose to nose with the ugly face of a harpy. She squawked at me, stringy hair dangling past her angular features, after which she adjusted her talons, curling them tighter into the fabric of my shirt. I twisted and wriggled, doing my best to make her drop me. But she didn't and I was powerless to stop our dizzying flight through the jungle. I brought my hands up to cover my face from the worst of the tree branches. As I peeked out from between my fingers, I saw a bit of white in an upcoming tree. That was the only warning I had before the white leaped forward and grabbed the harpy between two large paws.

The three of us dropped from the air and I swore I would never complain to Oreius about his training lessons again, for I instinctually tucked myself into a ball and rolled to absorb the impact of the fall. I kept rolling until I was beneath a bush. From there, I flipped onto my stomach and watched the scuffle taking place in front of me. The white was a tiger and its mouth was clamped onto one of the harpy's leathery wings. The harpy squealed and flapped ineffectually. In return, the tiger jerked its head to one side, dislocating the wing. The shriek the harpy let loose made me wince and cover my ears. While she was still crying, the tiger lunged for her neck, caught it between its jaws and used the same wrenching motion to snap it. The crack was audible even from my hiding place. With the enthusiasm of any wild animal, the tiger laid down to enjoy its meal. It bit into the harpy's chest, tearing through the flesh easily. Using its paws to hold the body in place, the cat took several more bites, chewing noisily. From where I was, I could see the little bits of skin hanging out of the corner of its jaws as it ate.

I must have made some sound of disgust for the tiger rose to its feet and scanned the jungle, ears flicking back and forth as it sought the source. A shaft of moonlight cut through the trees above it, making the white fur almost glow against the ebony stripes. And I could clearly see the blood staining its mouth. I pressed myself further into the dirt, scarcely daring to breathe for fear it would hear me. Its tail swung back and forth hypnotically and I was so entranced by its curling and uncurling that I missed the moment the tiger spotted me. It crouched low, legs coiled to pounce. As my fingers closed on moist earth and fallen leaves, I was made more aware of my lack of weapon. There was nothing I could use against this animal. I was completely defenseless. I couldn't fight it with my bare hands, and I had no chance of outrunning it. The tiger lowered its head, ears flicked forward and teeth bared.

A commotion behind it saved me from a gruesome mauling. Out of the bushes scurried a pack of ankle slicers. Their bodies appeared nearly translucent in the moonlight as they scampered around the fresh kill. Because they were moving so fast, it was difficult for me to count them but my best guess was that there were three of them. In a flash, the tiger had twisted around and was now snapping at the threats to its dinner. Apparently it was more concerned with protecting its first kill than it was in chasing down another. It arched its back, snarling at the intruders and batting them away when they got too close. The ankle slicers circled around the predator, darting in every now and then to try and grab a piece of meat. I stayed just long enough to make certain the creatures were focused on each other. Then I bolted.

My feet kept slipping on the moist leaves covering the jungle floor. I used nearby tree trunks to regain my balance and resume my sprint. Despite frequent glances over my shoulder, which showed an empty path behind me, I was not reassured. I simply couldn't shake the anticipation of a sudden attack. I faced forward just in time to collide with something that sent me sprawling. Fortunately, it was nothing more threatening than my older brother.

"Edmund!" Peter exclaimed happily from where I'd knocked him to the ground.

I sprang to my feet and hauled him onto his. "There are more of them."

"Are you alright?" Peter asked, spinning me in a circle and inspecting me for injuries.

Impatient, I pulled away from him. "Aren't you listening to me? There's more of them."

"More of what?" Peter queried, attention divided between our conversation and the tears in the shoulder areas of my shirt.

"The Fell Beasts," I snapped, wrenching out of his grasp.

Peter's brows furrowed.

"There was a white tiger. And several ankle slicers." I gestured to the jungle behind me. "That's not even counting the werewolf and the harpy," I continued.

Hand on his sword, Peter took a step forward to peer into the trees, subconsciously positioning himself between me and the threat. When he didn't see an immediate enemy, he turned back to me. "Let's just get back to the stream and follow it to the beach. It'll be harder for them to sneak up on us in the open."

Though Peter sounded confident, and he moved forward purposefully, I could tell he was as tense as I was. His normally casual stride was rigid and he had yet to remove his hand from the sword hilt. I followed behind him, empty hands flexing anxiously at my sides. There was the noise of wind in the branches, but the air didn't move. I jumped at every shadow, flinched at the rustling leaves.

Ahead of me, Peter was muttering to himself. "I'm sure I came this way. It doesn't make any sense."

"How much farther, Pete?" I asked nervously.

"I-I'm not sure."

Peter's confession surprised me and I stopped short. He went on for a couple paces before he stopped too. "There's got to be some sort of magic in here. I came this way while I was chasing you and now there's no sign that I was ever here."

"What?" I asked.

"All the broken branches, footprints, anything. It's all gone," explained Peter, sweeping his arm over the area.

"What does that mean?" I queried, dreading the answer.

"It means something doesn't want us getting out of here," Peter answered grimly.

As if Peter's words had summoned it, some large creature appeared between the trees only a few yards from us. Given the snuffling and snorting noises it was making, I concluded that it must be a minoboar. It turned its head, giving me a glimpse of curved tusks that validated my assumption. Peter and I froze, wondering if it had spotted us yet. Minoboars were stupid brutes. If we could slip away undetected, it was doubtful we would be pursued. I began edging away quietly. But Peter pulled his sword from his belt, and stealthily stalked toward it.

"Peter," I hissed.

He held up his hand, signaling me to stay back. I grit my teeth. Running while we had the chance was the wiser course of action. But of course Peter wasn't going to do the smart thing. So far, the minoboar was oblivious. Peter easily slid up behind it. But the thick skin on minoboars backs makes them nearly impervious to attacks from the rear. Peter would have to either decapitate it (an unfeasible task without an incredibly sharp blade), or stab it in its softer midsection. Not trusting the unfamiliar blade to have the needed sharpness, Peter chose to go for its middle, suddenly leaping out in front of it. The minoboar startled, swinging out clumsily with its arm. Peter dodged the strike, ducked down and planted his feet to drive the tip of his weapon into its exposed stomach. It squealed a death cry at an ear-splitting volume before toppling backward.

"Peter," I snapped.

"What? It's dead now," Peter said.

"Yes, and now every creature in this jungle knows exactly where we are," I shot back.

"You're welcome," he grumbled, wiping his sword off on the big leaves of a nearby bush.

"I'm being serious," I insisted. "We should have run when we had the chance."

"You sound like Susan," Peter observed.

I crossed my arms and quirked an eyebrow. "Is that a bad thing?"

Peter shrugged, pretending to be too busy inspecting his weapon for minoboar blood to make eye contact with me.

"You are perilously close to insulting two out of your three siblings," I warned.

Heaving a put-upon sigh, Peter finally gave me his full attention. "All I meant was that we're alright. This minoboar won't be chasing us. I don't see anything coming out of the trees to eat us. It all worked out."

I stood rigid, expecting another werewolf to spring on him or some other beast to materialize and gut him. Nothing happened. No monster burst from the shadows. Peter shook his head, clearly disgusted with my vigilance.

"This way." He tipped his head to the right, setting off without waiting to see if I would follow.

Stung by his dismissal, I didn't even bother asking why he had picked this direction. We hadn't gone far before I had snag Peter's sleeve and pull him to a stop.

"Edmund," he growled.

I jammed a finger against my lips, glaring at him, before pointing ahead at the mob of goblins, boggles, and ghouls that blocked our path. His eyes widened and then he grabbed my sleeve, hauling me off to the side. But it was too late. One of the ghouls had already spotted us, gesturing toward us with a bony arm and gnashing its teeth in excitement. And so the chase began.

* * *

NarniaGirl: I'm feeling much better now, thanks :) Oh gosh, you are too kind! It's sure to be a nasty creature, let me tell you ;)

CinnamonRoll4Lif: Make sure you tell those rolls that I'm grateful for their compliments

ChildofGod: *begins sweeping vase shards with a convenient broom* Did this chapter count as 'stuff going down?' ;) * I'm pretty sure it wasn't the flowers. I mean, deer eat them all the time and you don't see them coming down with violent stomach bugs, right?

Chickencomes1st: Thank you so much! And welcome to this story! Haha, I wish I had enough time *cough _talent_ cough* to write one that long but I do appreciate your sweet comment :D


	6. Peter 3

I meant to upload this yesterday but apparently the site was having technical difficulties. Oh well. At least it's better today.

* * *

 _ **Peter**_

I cursed myself as I sprinted through the jungle, Edmund close behind. I was not made for being in the trees. The closeness of the branches, the limited line of sight, the shadows, nothing about forests or woods or jungles appealed to me. I was never very good in them, despite how I liked to pretend in front of others. If it hadn't been for my brother, I would have walked straight into the horde of creatures and they'd be having Pevensie stew right now. If they even bothered to cook me. From what I'd heard, Fell Beasts had no qualms about devouring their prey raw. The thought was not a pleasant one and it spurred me to reach back for Edmund and push him in front of me. If anyone was going to get eaten alive, it should be the one who didn't notice the danger in the first place. Edmund moved through the jungle with the ease and surety of any native animal. Bumbling was the best word I could think of to describe my own movement. My only comfort was the fact that the Fell were as clumsy as I was.

I wasn't sure which one of our pursuers had been clever enough to think of it, but the next thing I knew, a moderately sized rock hit me in the back hard enough to knock me to the ground. I landed heavily, arms and legs akimbo. Edmund scampered on for a few yards before noticing I wasn't following. He started coming back for me and I immediately shook my head at him.

"Go, Ed!" I shouted.

He stubbornly persisted in his backtracking. The noise of the pack of Fell was quite close. The stamp of bare feet on dirt, nasally breaths, the click of claws. I knew we didn't have time. But there was nothing I could do. Edmund was already beside me, helping me to my feet. Mentally, I promised myself to have another talk with him about doing what he was told. Once I was upright, with my limbs all sorted, Edmund dashed off again and I was left to keep up as best I could.

He was agile and light-footed, effortlessly bounding over a fallen log. The log proved to be more of an obstacle for me, and as I struggled over it, a gnarled hand latched onto my ankle. After two forceful yanks, I tumbled down the wrong side. The skeletal face of a goblin loomed over me, framed a pair of boggles. I kicked off the hand that held me, and quickly wriggled under the log. It provided just enough cover for me to escape. My pursuers were likely unable to mount the log, and they were too large to fit under it as I had. I didn't stay around long enough to find out for sure. I bolted into the trees, hoping Edmund wasn't so far ahead that I wouldn't find him. There, a little ways in front of me, I spied a figure running. It was human. Edmund. Gathering my strength, I put on a burst of speed, hoping to catch up.

Without warning, he veered to the left. Assuming he had seen something that I had not, like last time, I also went left. He was harder to keep track of now, his path weaving from side to side in no discernable pattern. Every now and then, he seemed to vanish, only to reappear in another place. But it must have been a trick of the shadows. Finally, he stopped with his back to me. I came up beside him, grateful for a chance to catch my breath. I glanced over my shoulder, checking for the mob of creatures.

"I think we've lost them," I said.

Edmund gave no response.

"Do you have any idea where we are? How far we are from the beach? Or even which direction it's in?" I questioned without heat.

He stood there. Silent and unmoving.

"Ed?" I reached out to tap him on the shoulder. And my hand went straight through him.

Before I could react, the shape in front of me dispersed into the vaporous form of a wraith. Two glowing eyes burned red at me as it whipped around to face me. It levitated higher, looming threateningly above me. If past experience had taught me anything, it was that without Rhindon, I was powerless against this monster. I braced myself for its imminent attack. But the wraith never had the chance. A minotaur stomped out from the nearby bushes, planting himself in front of me. With a deafening bellow, he proclaimed his dominance. The wraith drew back, hesitating only a moment before flying off. I also turned to run, having no desire to wait for him to notice me.

But a heavy hand grabbed my upper arm, holding me immobile. He yanked me around, pulling me close enough to see the spots of saliva dotting the hair around his mouth. His breath was hot and moist, with a terrible stench. He lifted me off the ground, staring at me with his beady eyes. Then he backhanded me, hard. As my head snapped to the side, my teeth caught my tongue and the coppery tang of fresh blood filled my mouth. Without warning, he dropped me. I landed on my back and struggled past the sudden onset of dizziness to scramble away from him. Having every advantage, he allowed me a yard or so before leisurely walking up behind me. I heard his weighted hoofs approach and knew I had just seconds to act. I whipped my sword from my belt, drawing it across his hairy thigh. Without giving him the chance to recover, I kicked him where I had just cut him. With a groan, he collapsed to one leg. I quickly stood, drawing my sword back to deliver a fatal blow. But I underestimated him. He growled and swung his head, aiming his horns at me. I was forced to jump back. Seeing that, he levered himself into a standing position before pawing the ground and lowering his head. I recognized the behavior and ducked behind a tree just in time. His horns flashed in the moonlight right where I had been standing. His next attack came only seconds later. The tree groaned when he slammed his skull against it, horns appearing on either side of the trunk, very nearly gouging my arms. When he backed up to prepare for a second charge, I ran.

Admittedly, it was not the smartest plan I'd ever had. But, then again, I normally had Edmund beside me to balance out my stupidity with a bit of rationality and a huge heaping of common sense. The reminder that my brother was missing was hardly necessary, yet it stabbed through me and I made a rash decision to doubleback around. Again, Edmund was the more clever out of the two of us and I'm sure he would not have approved of me heading straight for the raging minotaur. The plan was an illogical, stupid, and reckless one. But it was unexpected. And I'd never met a minotaur that could improvise. So I reversed direction abruptly, using a screen of hanging vines to cover my change in orientation.

It was too late to change my mind. Using the thunder of the brute's own steps to mask my lighter ones, I sprinted past him, imagining the giant arms reaching out and snatching me as I went past. But, by the grace of Aslan, he never saw me. He kept going forward and I kept going back. I hoped we'd never see each other again.

It was probably futile to seek out the stream. The wraith had led me in such an extraordinarily zigzagging pattern, and I had run off farther after that, that I doubted I would ever be able to figure out my way to where I had last seen my brother. My real brother. Not some monster in his image. But I had to try. Keeping my sword at the ready, readjusting my stride to a more easily maintained jog, I pressed on through the trees. It seemed strange to me that the moonlight came more easily through the trees than the sunlight had. I suspected it had something to do with the evil nature of the place. Whether the jungle had started out that way or simply become tainted by the Fell creatures that inhabited it, I didn't know. Either way, it didn't matter.

My foot snagged on a bramble of some sort, and I fell. Again. My sword went flying, and so did I. A sturdy tree trunk halted my flight, and I grimaced when I detected the warm blood welling from a gash in my forehead. After picking myself up, brushing moist dirt and clinging leaves from my tunic, I resolved never to step foot inside another jungle. Or forest. Or wood. Or clump of trees. Edmund was more than welcome to keep his woodland realm all to himself. Personally, I was through with trees, and branches, and roots, and sticks, and twigs, and dirt, and mud, and vines, and dim light, and long shadows, and strange noises, and dangerous animals, and anything else related to forests or jungles or woods that I couldn't think of at the moment.

Something moved nearby. I raised my hand, settling into a ready stance. Only to be reminded that I no longer had possession of the pirate sword. Keeping half my attention on the section of jungle I guessed my company to be approaching from, I dropped to a crouch to search out my lost weapon. Fortunately, my fingers closed around the hilt of the blade and I pulled it close. The advancing creature stopped, as if it too had sensed it was not alone. I stayed balanced on the balls of my feet, knees bent, poised to strike at the first sign of hostile intent. A minute dragged by. And another. Noiselessly, I passed the sword to my left hand in order to wipe my sweaty right palm along my thigh. The air was thick around me, undisturbed and quiet. I strained my eyes but saw nothing beyond the silvery outlines of trees, bushes, and vines. The cut on my forehead leaked a few more drops, the liquid tickling at my eyebrow, so I swiped it away with the back of my wrist. Tired of the suspense, I impatiently leaped forward, making my presence known. The thing in the shadows startled, falling back a step into a patch of moonlight.

It looked like Edmund. But I wasn't about to let my guard down around a second time. There was the very real possibility this was the wraith, coming back to finish what the minotaur had interrupted. I slipped behind a tree, watching it carefully.

"Peter?"

I blinked. The wraith hadn't tried talking before. But that didn't mean it was incapable of speaking with Edmund's voice. I watched as it came forward slowly, cautiously almost. Or perhaps menacingly. It could be hunting me. I ground my teeth and waited until it was passing right next to me. I got caught up in the moment, forgetting which blade I was holding, so accustomed was I to having Rhindon that I jumped out from behind my shelter, swinging the pirate sword at the right height for decapitation.

"Peter! Stop!" The figure had excellent reflexes, dropping beneath the attack just in time. "It's me."

Engaged in the fight, having lost my chance to flee undetected, I took another swipe at it. This time, my strike landed. And I knew it was truly my brother when the blade skimmed across his upper arm, tearing a hole his sleeve and nicking the skin beneath.

"Edmund!" I exclaimed happily.

"Yes, like I already told you," he grumbled, clamping a hand down on his mild injury.

"Sorry about that," I apologized sheepishly, nodding to the cut.

He shrugged. "It's nothing more than a scrape."

"I thought you were a wraith," I explained.

His arched eyebrow revealed his disapproval. "And you thought you could fight it with that?" He tipped his chin disdainfully at the sword in my hand.

"Honestly, I wasn't thinking much at all," I revealed, embarrassed.

He shook his head with a snort.

"Have you found the way out of here?" I asked eagerly.

"Do you think I would be standing here if I had?" he returned wryly. "And by the way, you look awful," he added.

"Thanks," I grumbled, wiping a sweaty and dirty hand over my sweaty and dirty and bloody face. "But you're hardly looking courtly yourself."

He shrugged. "I wasn't planning on impressing the Fell beasts who are currently trying to kill us."

"Speaking of which…" I trailed off, clearing my throat. "We should probably head out if we don't want to get caught."

"Again," Edmund muttered cheekily.

"What was that?" I asked, knowing full well what he had said.

He folded his hands behind his back, the very picture of faux innocence. "Nothing."

"Tell me, which one of us got snatched by a harpy?" I teased.

"And who got jumped by a werewolf?" he countered.

"Or cornered by a tiger?"

"Or stumbled into a group of goblins and boggles?"

I held up a hand. "This argument is pointless."

"You only say that when I'm winning," Edmund complained.

The bushes around us came to life, shaking and rustling. Petty squabbling forgotten, my fingers flexed around the hilt of my sword, while Edmund tensed beside me. Seconds later, a pack of ankle slicers burst from the undergrowth, darting about like fish in a river. I prepared to fend off their attack. But it never came. Instead, the little creatures ran pell-mell past us, giving us the same attention as tree trunks or other obstacles. They scurried around our legs without stopping, a dozen or more of them, shrieking and waving their scrawny arms aloft. Edmund and I exchanged a look. Then the ground beneath us began to quake as a series of thunderous thumps echoed through the trees. Beneath the bass of that noise, a higher pitched squealing became audible. I lifted my sword defensively.

The trees were suddenly parted by the ginormous shape of an ogre. My mouth dropped open in shock. The beast was larger than any I had ever encountered. In one massive hand, he held a wriggling minoboar. The thing continued shrieking in fear and as Edmund and I watched, the ogre put the Fell into its mouth, biting down with pointed teeth. While loudly chewing on the single mouthful, the ogre pulled what remained of the minoboar from between his jaws, tossing it into a bag that hung around his waist. The bag looked to be made from an animal hide, no doubt a previous victim. I glanced at Edmund. His face was twisted in revulsion.

"Ed, run," I whispered. When he continued to stare, I raised my voice. "Edmund, run!"

Instantly, the ogre's attention snapped to us. With a growl, he swung his arm at us, knocking me and my brother to the ground. I winced when I heard the crunch Edmund made when he hit a tree. Picking him as the weaker target, the ogre advanced on him. I jumped to my feet, rushing to put myself between them. Edmund rolled over, a hand held protectively to his ribcage. I grabbed his elbow and hauled him upright roughly.

"Go, Edmund. Run and don't stop no matter what," I ordered. "I'm right behind you. Run!"

I shoved him, hard. He took a couple stumbling steps before shaking out of his daze and setting off at a sprint. I whirled back to face the ogre. The beast's nostrils were flaring and he threw back his head to let loose a roar. Taking advantage of the unexpected opportunity, I ducked into the jungle, following Edmund. I hadn't gotten far before I felt thick fingers wrap around my torso. The next thing I knew, I was being lifted into the air. I struggled to get free but the ogre's hand only tightened until I couldn't breathe. Through the black spots swirling through my vision, I could see his open mouth approaching. A burst of strength rushed through me and I twisted around until my sword arm was free. I jabbed the tip of my weapon into the closest of his meaty fingers. Surprised more than hurt, his grip sprang open and I tumbled to the ground. Angered, he reached for me again. I rolled between his legs, and attempted to get to my feet. Only to have my left ankle give out under me. Swallowing a groan, I sank to my knees.

The ogre spun around as quickly as he could, given his size, and narrowed his eyes at me. His flat lips peeled back into an unpleasant smile, his thick tongue darting out to moisten them. Refusing to surrender, I surged upright, ignoring the protest of my ankle. Settling into a guarded stance on my other foot, I lifted my sword, returning his hungry expression with a determined one. He regarded me and my blade for a moment, then reached out and ripped a large branch from the closest tree. His new weapon added to the already considerable reach of his arm. He clearly had the advantage, as I could scarcely risk getting close enough to wound him without putting myself within striking distance. Under normal circumstances, I would seriously consider a tactical retreat. But my sprained, possibly broken, ankle ruled that out as an option. Therefore, dispatching the ogre quickly was my only choice. He had height, weight, and muscle against me. My usual advantage of speed and agility was severely impaired by my ankle. Alone, injured and without backup, I inhaled and closed my eyes for a second, offering a silent prayer to the Lion.

And opened them just in time to see the ogre attack with surprising swiftness.

* * *

ChildofGod: that title fits as well, all though it is a bit of a mouthful ;) *glances left and right nervously* *accepts cordial* I will only take one drop, I promise!

NarniaGirl: I completely understand-real life is such a bother, isn't it? :P Here's another cliffhanger for you. It was unintentional, I swear! The chapter was already written before I got your review.

CinnamonRoll4Lif: Ooooh! Yummy! I wish I got cinnamon rolls for every story I wrote. But these are fantastic! I don't have to share them, do I?


	7. Edmund 4

Okay, so. This chapter was soooo hard to write! I ended up going through several versions, with different villains, and then ended up piecing together this final cut from some of those so if it seems a bit discordant, that's probably why. (sorry if it waxes too poetic near the end)

Also, Cymopoleia is pronounced Sy-mo-POH-lay-ah. The name is borrowed from Greek mythology: Cymopoleia was one of Poseiden's daughters and was goddess of seas and earthquakes.

One final A/N, the creature I envisioned for this chapter is the sea serpent from the Dawn Treader movie (although it's black here since it was totally only green in the movie because of the weird green mist). Why did I choose that? Because I was inspired from a guest review by DorothyDryad back on chap 1. Long story short, I wanted to give Edmund a reason to be scared of sea serpents in Dawn Treader so here's my version of a back story on that phobia.

* * *

My chest ached with rapid, shallow breaths as I pushed myself through the jungle. When I ran past them, thorny bushes snatched at my tunic, tearing off bits of fabric and scratching the skin beneath. Sweat-soaked strands of hair flopped limply against my forehead as my steps pounded across the jungle floor. Broad leaves slapped my cheekbones. Shadows shimmered in the corners of my vision, winking in and out of existence, changing shape rapidly. It was disorienting and I lost my balance multiple times, crashing through the underbrush and accumulating another dozen cuts and bruises. My legs were tired from the constant running, throat parched and stomach empty. My head was fuzzy and my entire body was sweltering in the humidity that not even the setting of the sun had relieved. Miserable, fearful, and alone, I paused after yet another tumble. Raising myself to only a single knee, I bowed my head and prayed to the Great Cat.

Fresh strength bolstered me and I rose with determination. And it was then that I realized the awful silence of the jungle was not complete here. Behind the harsh gasp of my panting, I could hear the gentle rhythm of waves breaking against sand. Excited by the prospect, I sprinted through the trees in front of me and, thank Aslan, burst onto the beach. A breeze blew over me, the sensation so refreshing after hours spent in the oppressive jungle that I actually chuckled in surprise. Glancing up, I was caught off guard by the brightness of the moon, looming directly overhead, while stars sparkled beyond. Relief swept through me and I turned to share it with Peter. I spun around but he was nowhere to be seen. And then I remembered that, like the sacrificial fool he was, the idiot had stayed behind to act as a diversion while I escaped. Hoping, but not expecting, to see him emerge from the treeline at any moment, I was about to step closer to it when my collar was grabbed from behind and I was flung to the ground. Before I could recover, a boot kicked me twice in the stomach with enough force to drive the air from my lungs. Reflexively, my body tried to curl into a defensive fetal position. But that same boot planted itself against my sternum, pinning me in place.

"Ah, I wondered where you had got to, boy."

The pirate captain stood over me, torch in one hand, sword in the other, expression twisted in smug condescension.

"Get off me," I demanded, squirming under his foot.

He threw his head back and laughed, a nasty, mocking sound. "If this is the might of Narnia's king, it will be a small thing to accomplish my mission."

I froze, disturbed by the implication of his words. He sneered down at me, and without looking away, asked "Gorrim, is everything ready?"

"Almost," came the gruff reply. "I'm only missing one ingredient."

A face suddenly appeared next to mine, features nearly hidden beneath the strange markings tattooed across them. The slitted eyes stared at me for a moment before focusing on my hand. Gorrim's arm shot out and he clutched my wrist in his large fingers. Turning it over, he held it steady even as I tried tugging it away from him.

"All I need is traitor's blood," he murmured with nearly religious reverence.

I hissed when he drew an ornamented dagger and slid the blade across my palm. Cradling the knife to his chest, he disappeared from my view. I smirked up at the captain.

"It won't work," I stated.

"What won't?" he asked, annoyed.

"I've been pardoned by Aslan Himself," I explained confidently. "I am no longer a traitor."

The man's lip curled in disdain under his mustache. "We shall see."

From somewhere close by, Gorrim began chanting, using the same language he had aboard the ship. As he continued, nothing happened. I barely restrained myself from laughing when the captain's irritation became visible in his expression. When he turned to look over his shoulder, presumably to check on his subordinate, I abruptly wrenched to the side, causing pain to erupt in my ribcage. But it was worth it, as I dislodged his boot and rolled out from under him. Less than a second later, lightning struck uncomfortably close to me and I jumped.

Rather than showing annoyance at my escape, the captain grinned in triumph. "Once a traitor, always a traitor."

"No," I whispered, falling back a step.

The soft waves of before were now a frothing mass of water, piling high on one another before smashing into the beach. Thunder rippled through the air, and when I looked up, I could see massive clouds accumulating, poised to block out the moon at any moment.

"It doesn't matter that some overgrown kitten gave you a platitude," the captain taunted. "What you did can't ever be undone. Your betrayal has tainted you. You can never cleanse the stain from your soul."

"You're wrong," I said, hating the way my voice quivered.

"You want proof?" he jeered. "There's your proof!" He swung his arm wide and stepped to the side to afford me an unobstructed view of Gorrim.

The pirate was on his knees in the sand, holding the knife, still dripping with my blood, over some sort of crudely constructed altar. The stones it was built from seemed to absorb the moonlight, rather than reflect it. On top, bones and jewels of various sizes and colors were scattered around a crystal bowl of water. It was into this that he was allowing the blood to drain. He raised his voice, bellowing the unfamiliar tongue into the night.

"Deam maris! Veni ad me cito!"

The faint outline of a female figure flickered in front of the altar, never quite coming fully into focus.

"Cymopoleia." Gorrim's decorated face broke into a surprised smile, but only for a moment. The pleased look faded slowly from his features, replaced by one of fear as the shadow solidified into a tall woman, hovering several inches above the ground. Her skin was pale as porcelain, angular face framed by wild strands of long dark hair that drifted about her as if caught in swift currents. The simple gown she wore stretched to her ankles, a shimmering blue, constantly shifting as if it were made of running water. Eyes smouldering like diamonds in firelight, she stared down at him.

"No," he whimpered. "N-no, please. I have only e-ever been your f-faithful servant. P-please, please."

Cymopoleia tilted her head as though weighing a judgement.

"P-please, no. No. No!" he continued, voice rising in pitch, dropping the knife to wring his hands.

Openly weeping now, he threw himself prostrate on the sand, garbled pleas for mercy tumbling from his lips. The woman raised a slender hand. Gorrim went rigid, as though held by invisible bonds. His begging was cut off by unseen means, his breathing reduced to strained choking. His eyes bulged, face flushing red. Cymopoleia's expression was impassive as she abruptly clapped her hands.

From the waterline issued a sibilant shriek. I whipped my head around to stare at the creature emerging from the waves. Body wider than a great juniper tree, with dagger-shaped fins cresting its back, a monstrous sea serpent broke through the foam, pushing its hideous head ever higher above the ocean. It uttered another shriek, large externally fanged jaws splitting wide to reveal multiple rows of razorlike interior teeth. Covered in gleaming scales of pitch black, it was an extension of the night sky. Narrowing the amber eyes set close to its mouth, it slithered onto the beach like a viper. Frightened by its ability to move on dry land, I withdrew several paces, but my morbid fascination would not allow me to go any further.

The serpent reared back, towering above the terrified man. It stayed that way, poised above him, then looked to Cymopoleia. She inclined her head slightly. Taking the signal, the beast dived down, massive jaws snatching the pirate and raising him into the air. Impaled on the outer fangs, Gorrim was helpless to defend himself against the creature. The sea serpent's jaw was multi-jointed, as evidenced by the way the lines of teeth moved independently of one another. Horrified, I clamped my hands over my ears in an attempt to block out the screams of its victim as it systematically devoured him. Ripping, tearing, shredding the flesh from his bones. The gruesome display brought bile surging up my throat and I turned violently to the side, scarcely managing to conquer the nausea.

 _I will not be controlled._

I jolted at the sudden alto voice resonating inside my skull.

 _Mortals, why have you dared summon me?_

Realizing that this...spirit, or whatever she was, was communicating telepathically, I glanced at the pirate to gauge his reaction. He was gawking at her, mesmerized by her appearance. Perhaps it was because I had previous experience with witches and magic, but I did not find her beauty attractive. Her gaze snapped away from the captain and over to me in an instant. I fought to stand my ground against those invasive, penetrating eyes. Without warning, phantom hands burrowed into my brain, prying at it as if to crack it open and expose all my secrets. Brought to my knees by the unprecedented experience of pain, I clutched at my skull, squeezing my eyes shut and crying out.

 _Traitor._

Never had the word felt so personal before. I had been accused many times, by many voices. But none so close, so intimate. The word echoed in my head, reverberated in my chest, filled up every crack and crevice as if it belonged there. I was a betrayer. That was my identity, who I was at my core. Nothing I could do would scrub it out. No matter how long I masqueraded as a just king, I would always be that wicked little boy who wanted to hurt his family, who would sell out friends for favors, who turned his back on the one True King.

 **Aslan**.

The name came into my thoughts with the force of a battering ram. As soon as it did, the foreign touch retreated, leaving me weak and panting, but with a clear head. Aslan had paid for my treachery. Bought my redemption. Gave me forgiveness. I was His. That was who I was. Armed with the truth, I got to my feet, standing with a straight back and a raised chin.

Cymopoleia seethed wordlessly, teeth bared. The sea monster flicked its tail aggressively behind her, while lightning flashed sporadically, illuminating the skeletal remains its meal. Boldly, I stepped forward. She ran her eyes over my figure before switching her attention to the captain, who was just as transfixed as he had been since she first appeared. One thin finger pointed at him and then at me. The hypnotized captain nodded stupidly and turned toward me, brandishing his sword. I tensed, aware of the fact that I had no weapon, no backup, and one ticked off sorceress with a nightmarish familiar hoping I failed. Not the best odds, but I had faced worse. I clenched my hands into fists, grimacing as the torn edges of my injured palm met. Drops of fresh blood dripped into the sand and Cymopoleia's sharp eyes cut down to stare at them.

Lunging forward, the pirate captain made the first move. I bent backward under the blade to avoid the slice to my chest. He swung again and I jumped away, but not before the sword neatly skimmed my stomach. I grunted, feeling blood well from the shallow gash. Without pause, the pirate arched his next attack. I ducked to the side and he stumbled when his sword fell through empty air instead of sinking into my neck. Using the moment to my advantage, I pivoted on my heel, swinging my arm up and then bringing it crashing down between his shoulder blades. The momentum added to the strength of my hit, and he dropped to the ground, hitting his head on a rock when he landed. Disoriented, he lay still a moment. I snatched the rock and slammed it into his chin. His head wrenched to the side and he lost consciousness. Breathing heavily, I yanked the sword from his lax fingers and leveled it at serpent darted through the sand, eager for a fresh kill. With my attention fixed firmly on the water sorceress, I barely noted how the beast reared back at the last moment, shying away from the captain's unconscious form. Cymopoleia's eyes narrowed at me.

 _You cannot harm me with your forged metal, Son of Adam._

Somehow, intiutively, I knew she was right. Resigned, I lowered the sword, expecting her to raise her hand and sic her attack snake on me. But to my surprise, she merely floated in front of me, glaring. Too confused to do much else, I stood there dumbly. She regarded me cooly for a moment before abruptly straightening and looking off into the jungle as if she had heard a noise I could not. A stiff wind rolled across the shore and she grinned predatorily.

 _There is another._

Peter. She meant Peter. Oh, Aslan, please no. She clapped her hands briskly and the monster shot across the beach, slithering into the jungle before I could even comprehend what was happening. Helpless, I tightened my grip around the sword's hilt and, when Cymopoleia made to follow her animal, I stabbed the blade into her. Or rather through her. Just as she had said, the weapon didn't hurt her in the least, merely passing through her phantom body as if through mist. She didn't even notice, pace never slowing. Desperate, I wracked my brain for some way to stop her. But the beach was empty, aside from the slumbering pirate and the erected altar. For a single moment, I wondered if I would be able to use it.

Immediately, I dismissed the idea. Magic was far too dangerous for an unlearned individual such as myself to fool with. Clearly, the altar was tied not merely to magic, but blood magic as well, the darkest and most vile kind of black magic. I would never practice such a dark art. But, remembering how Gorrim had used the altar to summon the spirit, I rushed over to it. With a single sweep of my hand, I scattered the jewels and the bones. They clattered into the sand with dull thumps. I overturned the crystal bowl next, red-pink water dribbling out. Once I had toppled the pile of stones, I spun around to see if it had any effect on Cymopoleia. She was still ghosting ever closer to the jungle but her voice drifted through my mind.

 _The altar is not the source of my power, silly child._

Too preoccupied to bristle at the patronization, I scrambled for a reply that would divert her from her present course.

"Power? You think you have power here? You came when called, just like a lap dog. And not by some important sorcerer either. But by a pirate. You think yourself to be great when you can be so ordered about by a simpleton?" I taunted.

Just as I had planned, she paused. A low warning of thunder rumbled.

 _He was trifling with powers beyond his comprehension._

"And yet, you still showed up when he asked," I reminded, crossing my arms.

Lightning flashed.

 _You were witness to his demise. That is how I deal with those who displease me._

"Oh, so does that mean you are pleased with me?" I asked impishly. "Because, as both of us can see, I am alive and well." I uncrossed my arms and gestured to my entire body, ignoring the bloody scrapes and purpling bruises for the sake of the argument. "But if you'd like to remedy that oversight, by all means, call back your serpent." I would rather face it a hundred times than have it attack Peter.

She gnashed her teeth at me but, again, made no move against me. A realization dawned on me and I glanced to the shards of the crystal bowl sprayed across the blood stained sand before turning back to her with a raised eyebrow.

"Or maybe you want to kill me but you can't," I mused. Her already dark glare deeped to a truly venomous one. "The blood spell?" I hazarded a guess. And took the next growl of thunder as confirmation. "So we're somehow connected? Or at least, you need me alive in order to manifest?"

 _I have dwelt on this island longer than you know, mortal. I do not_ need _anything from you._

"But Gorrim did something," I argued. "And it must have been something you didn't like, since you killed him as soon as you saw him." I puzzled through the situation, attempting to untangle the mystery with the few pieces of information I had. "Perhaps what he was after was a...binding spell?"

 _Silence!_

I smirked in triumph and opened my mouth to further expand on my revelation but her next threat froze the words in my throat.

 _I may not be able to harm you, boy, but I will destroy those you hold dear._

The excitement of being right vanished.

 _I have seen it within your mind. Your precious Narnia. With wave and storm and wind, I will decimate the country you claim as your own, traitor. Your home will become a desolation, flooded by water and beaten with rain. I shall strike with lightning your people, and with thunder I shall ruin them. And I will kill your family, beginning with your brother._

Her lips twisted into a haughty smile and she turned around, facing the jungle once more. Panicked, I lifted my sword, positioning the tip against my chest. "Wait!" I yelled.

She only deigned me with a bored look over her shoulder.

"If you hurt him, I will fall on this sword and spill the blood woven into the spell cast upon you," I vowed.

 _The spell does not link us. Do as you wish. I shall take your brother's life._

Frustration and helplessness vying for dominance in my mind, I threw down the useless weapon with an angry shout. There wasn't any way I could stop the spirit. I had no way to warn Peter. Nothing I could do to protect him. He was going to die and I would soon after. The jungle was still crawling Fell of all sorts who would be eager to hunt me down. We would perish here on this miserable island, while Cymopoleia unleashed her wrath on our unprotected people. I stared despondently at the menacing outline of trees.

'Oh, Aslan,' I moaned inwardly. 'Why is this happening? Why did You allow these events to unfold?'

The next crack of thunder was drowned beneath a Lion's roar.

 **Rise, Son of Adam. I am not finished with you yet.**

Unlike Cymopoleia's pernicious whispers in my head, the command of the King slammed directly into my heart, blasting through my despair and filling me with new life. I could do naught else but obey.

 **Behold, the flame. Take it into your hand and thus vanquish your enemy.**

Overcome with wonder at His voice, I basked in His strength, relishing His direction and amazed at His authority, even as my sight flashed to the torch miraculously burning where it had fallen when I fought the pirate captain. Emboldened by the contact with Aslan, I sprinted across the sand and plucked the firebrand up, then dashed away from the beach. Without hesitation, I plunged back into the thick darkness of the cursed jungle.

* * *

framed-curiosity: Thanks! I'm glad you think it's exciting :D

Meeko: Thanks, I think! ;)

NarniaGirl: Hopefully it wasn't too unrealistic for an ogre to appear. Thank you so much for your encouragement-I'm doing my best to keep up with this story and I appreciate you taking time out of your busy life to read it =)

ChildofGod: Better late than never! I think it worked. *looks over entire body* *notices the bruise from work last week disappeared* Huh, I think the cordial fixed my original problem and more. Too bad it can't fix my mental state! XD


	8. Peter 4

I'm behind on updating, I know. *hides in shame*

* * *

 _ **Peter**_

I barely ducked what would have been a skull-crushing blow, had my reflexes been even the tiniest bit slower. The ogre grunted, hefting the log again. Waiting until he had already committed to a swing in one direction, I dived in the other. The branch struck the ground where I had been standing with such force that the ensuing rattle shook leaves from nearby trees. The dislodged leaves fell in a shower, unfortunate victims of an unevenly matched duel. My ankle was not overly fond of the treatment to which I was subjecting it, and didn't hesitate to make its displeasure known. Like an obstinate boar, it refused to comply with my plan to circle around behind my opponent to attempt a surprise attack from the rear. So instead of a neatly executed maneuver that should have allowed me to severely injure my foe, I ended up performing some odd skipping-hobble, more befitting of a lopsided wagon than a knight of Narnia. Oreius would surely have give up my training as a lost cause if he had been witness to such a blunder. When said blunder caused me to lose what little footing I had and plunge headlong into the closest bush, I could only feel gratitude that my general would never find out about this particularly embarrassing lapse of finesse.

Thunder rumbled, masking the commotion I made exiting the bush. As I emerged from the hitherto undiscovered depths of shrubbery, I found the ogre inspecting the bottom of his makeshift club, thinking the reason for my disappearance was because I had been smashed into little more than a smear on his stick. Ogres relied far more on their raw strength than they did on cunning intelligence. A fact that saved my life as I pushed to my unsteady feet and limped over to the dim-witted creature. A twinge in my shoulder accompanied the strike at his bare gut, the highest point of him I could reach.

The ogre bellowed his pain, wrenching his sizable paunch away from my sword arm. But the damage had been done. Thick droplets of blood poked sluggishly out of the tear I had opened across his belly. But ogre anatomy was not the same as human, and the wound was far less debilitating on him than it would have been on a being with slimmer skin and thinner blood. He aimed the branch at me and this time I wasn't quick enough to avoid it completely. The tip grazed my right side, knocking me off my weakened left leg, and I toppled to the dirt. Blinking, I tracked the movement of a large, hairy foot as it lifted into the air and began its descent toward me. I rolled out of the way, allowing the bush I'd gotten acquainted with to suffer a bad end instead. Flipping over onto hands and knees, I was dismayed to see that the foot was coming at me again, with no respite between stomps. I scrambled a meter further into the jungle, boots slipping on the loose dirt. A convenient tangle of vines hung off a tree trunk in front of me and I dropped under the plants, using the greenery as a shield. I needed to catch my breath, badly.

Running for the majority of the day had worn me out, as my sore legs were testament to. My empty stomach was making me lightheaded, and the humid air clogged my lungs with moisture instead of oxygen. Though the stolen blade in my hand was nowhere near the length of Rhindon, it weighed a bit more than my gifted sword, and only grew heavier as my energy flagged. After laying the weapon down within easy reach, I tentatively prodded at my swollen ankle, exploring by touch what I couldn't see for the gloom of my hiding place. As I worked, my thoughts drifted to my brother and I could only hope he that he had found his way out of this wretched place.

Intense sniffing interrupted my musings and I snatched my sword before getting into a prepared crouch. Despite being unable to compete with werewolves for a sense of smell, most ogres did possess a keener nose than they were given credit for. And all the cuts and scrapes littering my body only made it easier for him to identify the metallic aroma of human blood. Much sooner than I would have liked, the curtain of vines was ripped from the tree and I was exposed to the ogre once more.

Apparently finding the impromptu club too difficult to manage, my opponent had resorted to his customary method of hunting. He stretched out a brawny arm, seized my right leg, and yanked me from the cover of the tree. He dragged me a fair distance, not caring in the least how I was jostled and bumped by the random dips in the ground, scratched by sharp sticks, disturbed by slimy leaves. Somehow, my spine found every single tree root that stretched across our path, each one leaving a different mark on my vertebrae.

Without the use of my left leg, I was hard pressed to free myself. Straining against the constant motion, I squeezed my abdominal muscles and managed to raise my torso off the ground long enough to launch an attack on the fingers wrapped around my right calf. The ogre's fingers sprang open when they felt the sting of my borrowed blade. Liberated, I embraced my newfound freedom by flinging myself at the lowest branch of the nearest tree and hauling myself onto it. From there, I clambered to the next limb. And the next. And the one after. Until I was just above the ogre's line of sight. In my current position, I could count the wrinkles in his scaly scalp as he twisted his bald head on his squat neck, nostrils flaring for any whiff of his quarry. I was debating whether or not to attempt an aerial assault on him when the decision was taken out of my hands.

A shadow hurtled out of the jungle, launching itself directly at the ogre. Faster than my eyes could track, muscular loops of obsidian scales wove themselves around the bulky legs, the sagging stomach, the barreled chest and the stubbled throat. Caught off guard, and greatly irritated by his sudden change from hunter to prey, the ogre bellowed repeatedly, beefy hands grabbing at his attacker. From my vantage point, I could clearly see the serpent using his uncoordinated reaction to its advantage. Each time he exhaled his breath into a shout, the snake tightened its coils, increasing the pressure around his body. Annoyance quickly morphing into panic, the ogre abandoned all rational thought and threw himself around the area haphazardly, trying to dislodge the serpent. At one point, his erratic flailing caused him to collide with my chosen tree. Only by wrapping my arms securely around the branch I was laying on did I manage to retain my hiding place, instead of being tossed to the ground as the tree shuddered from the blow. Starved for air, the ogre's struggles slowed. Less than a minute later, his body toppled to the jungle floor.

Victorious, the snake unwound at a leisurely pace, revealing its true size to my incredulous eyes. In the gloom of the jungle, it was unfeasible to measure its length, but I could see enough to know it well over eight meters long. If I hadn't known better, I would have said it had fins along its back. Given that its head was far too large, and had far too many fangs, I would have classified it as a sea serpent, except for the fact it was on dry land. The lower jaw dropped open, showcasing even more teeth, and the creature set to work eating its victim. Disgusted, I turned my face away from the gory scene.

 _Son of Adam._

The low, mellifluous voice stole into my head, bypassing my ears and gliding straight into my mind. Startled, I shot up, scooting backward on the branch until my back was pressed firmly to the tree trunk. With my sword held out in front of me, I scanned the surrounding jungle, wary of the seductive tone.

 _Why do you conceal yourself from me, Son of Adam?_

Lightning streaked the sky. A stiff breeze picked up, carrying the scent of salt water and moist sand.

 _Come now, do not be frightened. I should very much like to meet you._

The words were smooth, like honey and wine, slipping around inside my skull, burrowing into my thoughts, designed to lower my defenses, charm my resistance. As if severed by a Lion's claw, the lower branch I was resting my left foot on snapped off abruptly, allowing my swollen ankle to bang against the tree trunk. The shock of pain gave me something else to focus on, a welcome distraction, since I had already felt my resolve wavering beneath the beguiling onslaught of the mysterious voice. Whoever this woman was, she was able to communicate without audible language, indicating she was practiced in magic. More thunder rolled overhead.

 _You can not hide forever, mortal._

Her tone changed from alluring to threatening in the space of a breath. I was less inclined than ever to answer. With the hypnotic weave of a cobra, the snake below me raised itself from its meal, forked tongue flicking out from between bloody jaws to sample the air. I froze, body going rigid. The great head swiveled in my direction, fiendish yellow eyes narrowing as they latched onto me. I blinked and suddenly a woman was floating in front of me.

She was beautiful. Dark haired, with piercing eyes, she carried an air of elegance about her. Her shimmering gown did little to hide her shapely form. I kept my eyes firmly fixed to her face, tightening my grip on the hilt of my weapon. Full lips twisted up into a cold smile, and then she raised a hand, flicking slender fingers at me. Her serpent sprang into action, whipping me with its tail so that I tumbled from the tree. My fall was cushioned by the slick coils of the reptile and I hurriedly scrambled off it. The woman hovered above me, slowly bending at the waist until she was level with me. Though she never reached out, I felt the phantom touch of soft hands running down the side of my face, across my shoulders, tracing my biceps.

 _I could feed you to my pet._

She suggested the threat as if it were an event I would be excited about, peering at me coyly from beneath her lashes. I shuddered as the unwelcome touch roamed my skin. Her eyes flashed simultaneously with a bolt of lightning.

 _But I would much rather rip out your heart._

The invisible hands ceased their sensual prowl and instead clawed at my chest. I gasped, my own hands flying to the source of the pain. But there was no corporeal threat to combat.

Her attack was cut off when a blur of dark hair and determination burst from the trees behind her. Though his timing was impeccable, I faulted Edmund for his incurable habit of not doing as he was told. My brother's face was set in marble, eyes glowing from within, and I knew of only One who could evoke such fierceness. He was unarmed, though he carried a torch in one hand. He slowed the last of his footsteps until he was even with our group. The serpent hissed at him, tail flicking, irked. But it shied away when he raised the torch, a reaction Edmund noticed and used to his advantage.

"Cymopoleia," he said, voice firm and full of command, reflecting his title of king.

So the enchantress had a name. She whirled around when he called, wavy tresses streaming behind her. I could no longer see her face, but I knew she was not pleased to see him. To confirm my theory, the storm clouds broke, unleashing a torrent of heavy rain. The large drops pummeled the greenery above us, some breaking through to splash us with dart-like precision.

"In the name of Aslan, I hereby declare your reign to be at an end," Edmund stated, shoulders straight and chin high.

The noise of Cymopoleia's gnashing teeth reached my ears even over the commotion of the storm.

 _I tire of you, foolish boy._

"But we both know you can't hurt me," Edmund reminded, and I resolved to question him about that bit of important information later.

 _Perhaps._

She tilted her head and then Edmund was bent double, vomiting violently. I rushed forward, securing my arm around his shoulder to support him as he heaved forcibly.

"What have you done to him?" I demanded, glaring at the woman.

 _He drank from my waters. I am merely reclaiming what is rightfully mine._

Edmund trembled in my grip, saliva, bile, and water gushing from his mouth. When the fit did not subside, his free hand blindly sought me, searching for an anchor in the midst of his distress. His eyes flicked up to meet mine, wide and scared as the fluid was expelled from his stomach.

"Edmund?" I said, seriously concerned. "Ed?"

He shook his head, gagging, unable to breathe for the retching. Maintaining my hold on him, I leveled my sword at Cymopoleia with my other hand.

"Release him!" I ordered. "I know this is your doing. Now release him from your spell!"

Cymopoleia laughed, a sound which would have been musical had it not been so sinister.

My anger deepened, temper flaring, and I stepped away from my brother, despite how his hand grabbed desperately after me. "If you will not stop your attack, then you shall die and your magic with you!"

I charged forward, loping on my crippled ankle. Cymopoleia's eyes widened for only a fraction of a second, then she smiled and I felt pain as I had never experienced before devour my right leg. I crashed to the ground, wriggling onto my back and frantically yanking my leg away from the intense pain. The serpent rolled with me, unaffected by my attempts to dislodge it as it sank its teeth into my flesh. Like rows of sharpened daggers stabbing into me with synchronized rhythm, the teeth did their work with vicious precision. Little pieces of my skin tore away with every motion, and I screamed as the mauling continued. Cymopoleia laughed again, eyes alight with my suffering. Just behind the hideous head of my attacker, I caught a brief glimpse of Edmund, gingerly straightening and dragging a sleeve across his mouth. He set his shoulders, lifted his chin and raised the torch.

"For Narnia! And for Aslan!" he yelled.

* * *

NarniaGirl: Thanks! I appreciate that :) I like using fanfic to make connections and explanations for things that I'm not satisfied with in the movies ;)

ChildofGod: *digs self out of mountain of chocolates, roses, and kudos* *gathers it all up and puts it in storage for a rainy day* Sorry for the cliffhanger last time. And probably this time too. TBH, I hadn't even thought of the whole Ed-sea serpent thing pretty much until the moment I started writing it. Btw, are you dead from anticipation yet? I probably shouldn't have waited so long to update... *pokes at you nervously to test for signs of life*

Ohana1575: (since it's too late to reply to you on chapter one and if you make it this far) Thank you!

DorothyDryad: You don't have to review every chapter, I'm just pleased you're still reading =) As to how your review inspired it, you mentioned fics about Ed being a bad swimmer and then asked if that would be a thing in this story. And because of how my brain works, I started thinking about what it would be like to write about that and then I thought about possible tie-ins to the movies, and then I thought about how to tie this story to the movies and then I realized I needed a creature to act as Cymopoleia's attack dog and that's how I realized I could tie this to VotDT and explain Ed's random fear of sea serpents. (Sorry for the really long response!)


	9. Edmund 5

Oh my gosh. I can't believe how long it's been since I updated! *hides under table in shame* For those of you that have stuck with this, thank you! And I apologize for the delay.

* * *

 _ **Edmund**_

With the taste of Peter's battle cry still in my mouth, I touched the torch to the nearest tree. The flame exploded into a fierce fire, immediately consuming the tree. It toppled over, knocking into the next tree. The fire eagerly jumped to the fresh wood, heedless of the ongoing storm. One after another, the large trees caught, filling the night with heat and light.

 _What have you done? What have you done?!_

Cymopoleia's shrieks pounded in my head. She rushed forward, her incorporeal fingers stretching toward me, a look of murderous intent warping her beautiful face. But before she could reach me, fire took her. Beginning at her toes, it licked up her body, transforming her presence into nothing more than a curling cloud of green smoke. Her dying scream was powerful. It built inside my skull, increasing in pitch and intensity. I squeezed my eyes shut against it, pressing my hands to my ears as hard as I could. Finally, the scream reached a crescendo, turning into an audible noise loud enough to rupture my eardrums. From between my fingers, thin trickles of blood leaked out of my ears. I opened my eyes in time to watch the last of the sea witch disperse into vapor.

On the ground, her serpent released Peter. The enormous snake writhed madly, rolling and twisting as it too burned. Leaving the beast to its death, I dove for Peter. Bright light from the burning trees illuminated the gruesome scene for me. The damage had been done. Peter's right leg was a wreck. His entire calf was shredded, a complete mess of torn fabric, punctured skin and freely flowing blood. Dragging my eyes away from the injury, I focused on his face. Beneath the lines of pain taking over his expression I could see the gleam of pride in his eyes.

"I told you...to go," he panted.

I smirked. "You're lucky I came back."

Unearthly howls, screeches, and wails broke in on our conversation. It was the Fell caught in the growing fire.

"The fire is spreading to the rest of the jungle," I stated, though it was obvious.

Peter twitched his head in a nod. "You need to get out of here."

"Yes, WE do," I emphasized, gripping Peter under the arms and hauling him into a sitting position.

He grunted in pain, and pulled away from my hold. "No, Ed. You have to go. I can't walk."

"Then I'll help you," I countered, grabbing his arm and slinging it over my shoulder, despite his attempts to free himself. My ribs gave me a jolt of pain for my efforts, though I studiously ignored them.

With the trees alight in nearly every direction, I had to scan our surroundings until I found a section not yet burning. "This way, Peter. Come on."

Together, we managed to stand, though Peter immediately stumbled. "Ed, I-"

I didn't let him finish. "Don't you dare say you can't. I have seen you lead armies and battle giants. You've faced ogres and werewolves, and you even dueled the White Witch herself. So don't tell me you're not strong enough to walk with me."

"My leg-" Peter began again.

"Don't tell me I'm not strong enough either," I interrupted passionately. "I'm not a child anymore, Pete. Let me help you."

Peter got quiet for a moment, studying me and the uncompromised determination on my face. Finally, he nodded. And I was nearly knocked off balance when his weight swung onto me. I struggled to compensate, suddenly faced with the enormity of my task.

"Sorry," Peter gasped, sweat streaming down his temple as he clumsily tried to ease my burden by standing on his own.

"Hang on one blasted moment. I just need to catch my balance and we'll be on our way," I grumbled, securing an arm around his waist and tugging at him until he relented and allowed his weight to fall on me again. This time, I was prepared. I braced myself and took a step forward. Then another.

All around us, the fire was ferocious, rapidly swallowing the jungle. The temperature was climbing, adding to the island's natural heat. Fresh sweat broke out along my skin and soon I was panting almost as harsh as Peter was. The terrain was difficult to cross. Though the storm had vanished when Cymopoleia died, thick smoke clogged the air, blocking out the moonlight and making it impossible to see the tangle of roots and vines blocking our path.

The further we went, the more Peter leaned on me, and I was coming to the realization that I had perhaps been a bit too ambitious. Although he was by no means a large man, years of combat training under our tireless General Orieus had packed Peter full of muscle, and he was, as he always had been, several inches taller than me. But I simply gritted my teeth and struggled on. Horrible noises continued to underscore the roar of the flames, as more monsters succumbed to the fire. Beside me, Peter was stifling moans of pain, but I heard them all the same. I opened my mouth to encourage him, but a coughing fit stole my breath and renewed the pain in my ribs.

I was still coughing when a ghoul burst out from the bushes on the left. Its beady eyes were blown wide in panic and it screeched at me before plowing directly into me. Caught off guard, I slammed into Peter, who instantly collapsed. He cried out and I rolled off him, ignoring the blood I felt seep into my pant leg where it had landed on his wounded leg. The ghoul pounced on me, striking me in a seemingly haphazard fashion. It rained crazed blows on my shoulders, head, anywhere it could reach. When it landed one on my chest, I grunted and decided I'd had enough of its attack. I brought my knee up and rammed its stomach. The ghoul squawked and fell to the side. I rolled over and bounced up onto my feet. Taking advantage of its incapacitated state, I kicked it again, hard enough to send it into the approaching fire.

Severely in need of oxygen, I choked on the hot air, bending down to retrieve Peter. He was dead weight in my arms. Alarmed, I grabbed his sweaty face between my palms. His eyes were shut. I shook him, garnering only a moan in response.

"Peter, wake up!" I shouted. "We have to keep moving."

I shook him again, harder. When he didn't answer, I slapped his cheek. That roused him enough to squint at me through pain darkened eyes.

"Get up," I ordered, not caring how harsh or unsympathetic I sounded. The fire was nearly upon us, already brushing us with blasts of scorching air. "Get up!"

With a bitten off whimper, Peter complied. I jammed my shoulder under his arm to steady him as he wobbled to his feet. I supported him as he switched all his weight to his left foot, allowing his right to hang limply, blood alarmingly visible oozing from the many terrible gashes. We only managed a few steps before Peter tripped. With my ribs as they were, I was unable to properly catch him, and we both crashed to the jungle floor. I cursed my weakened body and attempted to lift him once more. He batted away my arms.

"It's no use," he mumbled. "I can't go any farther."

I didn't bother giving an answer to his idiotic comment.

"Stop. Ed, stop. Stop it, Edmund," he begged, pushing me away every time I came near.

Finally I paused, only long enough to let my expression tell him just what I thought of his request. But he placed a hand against the side of my neck, fingers sticking in the blood trailing from my ear.

"You need to get out of here," he repeated. "Get back to th' Cair. Make sure that witch's really dead 'n' there's no more pirates..." he slurred, eyes blinking languidly, though I could tell he was fighting to concentrate on me.

I shook my head, denial a sharp stab in my gut. "No."

"You hafta...leave me," Peter panted.

"You're my brother. I'm not going to leave you," I argued vehemently.

Peter's gaze sharpened and he angled his head to better meet my eyes. "'M not talkin' as your brother but as your king. Givin' you an order."

"No," I mouthed, voice too choked with emotion to actually produce sound.

He appeared agitated by my refusal somehow, as if he had truly believed I was capable of leaving him behind to die in this inferno.

The tree next to us abruptly caught fire and a burning bough snapped off, plummeting onto Peter's injury. He jerked, then his eyes rolled back to expose the white before his eyelids closed over them. I shoved the branch away and felt caught in a sickening time loop as I attempted to bring Peter around again. He didn't respond to the shaking or slapping this time and my heart stuttered. A jet of hot air and the crackling of flames prompted me to turn around. There was only one path left through the burning trees and it was slowly shrinking as the fire spread.

"Alright, Peter," I murmured to my unconscious brother. "You'll have to do better than that if you want me to leave you behind." After hooking my hands under his armpits, I upturned my face. "Aslan, give me strength," I prayed. Then I started dragging Peter.

The heat from the blaze was nearly unbearable, the smell of it overwhelming. The acrid smoke pulled tears from the corners of my eyes. I clenched my jaw and ground my teeth as I strained to pull my brother out of danger. With only a single course open to me, I had no choice but to go in that direction. There was no way to know if this would lead me to the beach or further into the jungle. After only a pitifully small amount of steps, I staggered. But I forced myself on, knowing that if I stopped, I was condemning us both to death. Groaning with effort, I pressed on, watching as the conflagration gained on me.

Ash clouded the air, drifting down like black snowflakes. My head was spinning from the lack of oxygen, the lack of water, the lack of rest, and the trauma I had already endured throughout the course of the day. Peter seemed to grow heavier with every step and my muscles quivered with the strain. Without warning, my legs collapsed from under me and I landed on my back, Peter splayed across my lower body.

I couldn't go on. I hadn't imagined dying like this, burning to death, practically alone. A defeated sob rattled past my damaged ribs, and I tilted my head back, hoping, in spite of the smoke, for one final glimpse of the sky. What I saw transformed my cry to a giddy laugh and I surged upward with renewed hope.

"It's the beach. I can see the beach!" I exclaimed.

Fresh strength filled my veins and I desperately clutched Peter to me as I rose to my feet. This was our last chance at survival and I was not going to fail him. Narnia needed her king. I needed my brother. Orange and gold roared at me on either side but I kept my eyes firmly fixed on the white sand, barely visible through the screen of smoke. The undergrowth grabbed at me but I surged forward. A collapsing tree threatened to block our escape. Somehow, I found the courage to stay on course and made it past just in time. The thick trunk slammed into the place I had just been, spraying me with sparks. I took no notice, for I was nearly to the beach.

Finally, the treacherous jungle floor gave way to soft sand. I slipped, grinned like a mad man, and slipped some more as I lurched further toward the shoreline, and away from the fire. Once I had gone what I judged to be a reasonably safe distance, hopefully out of harm's way, I toppled to my knees, dropping Peter as well. Having been given the title of Just by Aslan Himself, I did my best not to relish in the defeat of my enemies. But kneeling in the cooling sand, watching the terrible jungle burn, I didn't even try to stifle the thrill of satisfaction running through my exhausted body. The red of the flames gave way to the green-tinted smoke and I absently found Peter through touch alone, gaze glued to the blaze. My hand fisted in the back of his tunic and then the world tipped sideways and there was soothing sand beneath my cheek as my eyes slipped closed.

* * *

Ohana1575: Thank you! And I hope you're still here, though I won't blame you if you aren't.

ChildofGod: *pulls out emf detector* *and also covers laptop with sheet to protect it from ghostly tears*

NarniaGirl: Well, this is obviously what happened next. It just took me a looooooooong time to say so ;P

DorothyDryad: I continued the reference/backstory in this chapter. I'm assuming you'll catch it, but if not here's a hint-it has to do with the color of the smoke.

Ally: Thank you so much!

Guest: It was actually your comment that gave me the kick in the pants I needed to actually carve out the time to just sit down and write this already! So thank you! (I apologize for getting distracted by other fandoms.)


	10. Edmund 6

Thank you x1000 to anyone still with this story! I apologize for getting distracted on another project instead of finishing this one. Special thanks to **dearizkyp** for persistently requesting updates! (sometimes I need the reminders!)

 __Yes, Edmund gets two chapters in a row but that's because Peter passed out. And an unconscious character makes for a pretty poor narrating character.

* * *

 _ **Edmund**_

I wasn't sure what woke me. But from beneath my half mast eyelids, I was able to see sand and the still burning husk of the jungle. Blinking languidly, I rolled onto my back. Above me, the sky was blushing coral along the horizon. As consciousness tightened its grip on me, reports of aches and pains flooded my brain as every inch of me made its discomfort known. My ribs were the worst off, allowing me only shallow breaths for fear of more punishing pain. That wasn't to say that the rest of me was much better. I don't know how I'd managed it but somehow, for the first time in my life, there wasn't a single part of me that didn't hurt in one way or another. At the moment, my right hand seemed like the least injured of my body so I went to move it. Only to find it trapped beneath a heavy weight. Confused, I looked to the side. And immediately panicked.

Peter was laying beside me, unmoving on the sand. Neither the fire in front of us nor the faint dawn above us provided me with enough light to truly assess his condition but I didn't need any to know that he was in bad shape. I yanked my hand free of him and pushed myself upright, already reaching for the hem of my tunic. It had been previously torn in many spots, making it easy for me to rip off several sections of cloth. As I worked, I cursed myself over and over in my head. I hadn't bandaged Peter last night. I had gone to sleep and left him bleeding. My brother was going to die and I could have stopped it if only I hadn't been stupid enough to shut my eyes. How long had I slept? Why hadn't I tended to him sooner? What if it was too late already? The thought jolted across my mind and into my heart, throwing off the rhythmic beating. The fabric fell from numb fingers as I frantically pawed my way up to his chest, pressing my palms flat against his breast, searching for the reassuring motion of his lungs, the steady tempo of his heartbeat. My trembling rendered my attempt useless. Frustrated with myself, but unable to calm down with the terrible notion of Peter's death hanging over me, I lifted a shaking hand to his head, gently turning his ashen face toward me. I held my other hand over his parted lips with anxious anticipation. I could feel no breath. I offered a wordless prayer to the Lion, the desperate aching need in my soul crying out with far more meaning than my tongue could ever express. Resolutely, I knelt in the sand, quivering hand hovering above Peter's blue-tinged lips.

Finally, a stir of air against my fingers. My eyes widened but I didn't move, fearing I had only imagined the slight sign of life. But it came again, a tiny puff of breath that meant the world. My relief stole my strength and I collapsed, folding at the waist and knocking my forehead into his ribs as I slumped on top of him. Peter couldn't afford for me to indulge myself in such a way. The next second, I was sitting ramrod straight, fingers deftly picking up the shreds of my shirt. I looked past his left leg, for now ignoring the swollen bulge of his ankle, to his mangled right one. The sand beneath the limb was a sodden lump of dark crimson. Steeling myself, I came around to Peter's right side to more easily treat his wound. The sight prompted fresh bile to climb my throat. Beneath the ruins of his trousers, strips of skin hung freely, revealing the white of bone just visible through the mixture of solidifying blood and the oozing fresh blood. The entire site was speckled through with sand. I hesitated, taking in the gory scope of my task. The wound needed to be clean. I glanced to the waves demurely lapping at the shore. I had nothing to carry the water with, and I knew I would be unable to move Peter all the way down to the shoreline. Deciding that preventing more blood loss was the most important issue, I gathered my composure and began winding the strips of cloth around Peter's torn leg.

Though the process must have been excruciatingly painful, Peter's face remained slack, his eyes stayed shut, and his voice never sounded. After binding his calf, I stumbled away, hands sticky with red. The tang of blood was thick in my nostrils and I stamped down on the urge to be sick. I was away from Peter only long enough to let the tide rinse the blood from my hands, then I was right beside him again. He was barely clinging to life. The sea serpent had severely mauled him (that horrifying event was going to haunt my nightmares) and he had lost so much blood. He needed help. I had none to give him. I had no medicine, no herbs, no supplies for stitching. I couldn't even give him water. He needed a miracle.

Anger, guilt, helplessness, desperation, fear, pain and exhaustion were all at war in my mind, clambering over each other in a bid for dominance. Overwhelmed, I dropped into a sitting position by Peter's shoulder, resting my hand on his chest. I closed my eyes, though I refused to give in to sleep. Whenever the wind blew in our direction, it carried with it the awful stench of smoke and death.

"Peter! Edmund!"

My head jerked up, eyes flying open.

"Peter!"

"Your majesties!"

"Edmund!"

"King Peter! King Edmund!"

I lacked experience in dehydration but I was fairly certain I wasn't so far gone as to start hearing voices after only a single day without water. But how else could I have heard Lucy leading a rescue party? I twisted my head from side to side, attempting to determine which direction the voices were coming from.

"Peter! Edmund! Can you hear me?"

I tried to answer her, but my throat was raw from inhaling the thick smoke and I could only utter a scratchy croak. There, just ahead, beautiful in the dawning light, was Lucy on the beach. She was flanked by a pair of fauns. My tongue darted out to moisten parched lips, and I tried again to call out.

"Luc…" A cough stole the rest of my breath. I lifted my arm, surprised at how heavy it felt, and waved it back and forth to attract attention.

One of the fauns spotted me and pointed me out to the others. Lucy's head whipped around to where he pointed and then she was tearing across the sand toward me. Whether it was her light feet or boundless love for her brothers that carried her to us faster than the fauns, I couldn't say. When she got close enough, she flung herself around my neck, knocking both of us into the sand. I grunted as her weight settled on my sore ribs.

"Oh Edmund!" Her relief was plain in her tone.

"Cordial," I wheezed.

She scrambled up and cocked her head. "What?"

"Cordial," I repeated, though my voice held no more strength than a whisper. "For Peter."

The joyful grin slipped off Lucy's face and was replaced by terror when she looked to Peter. Now that the sun had crested the horizon, I could understand her fear. The light revealed the ghastly state my elder brother was in. Soot was smeared over his face, only making the contrast with his pale skin more severe. The front of his tunic was splattered with crusted blood. And that was all before getting to the grisly injury on his right leg. But Lucy was rightly named Valiant and only grimaced sympathetically at the wound before springing into action.

"What happened?" she asked, even as her fingers deftly unhooked the crystal bottle from her belt.

I didn't answer, held captive by Peter's resemblance to a corpse. Without pause,

Lucy leaned forward, tipping a drop of the precious liquid into Peter's mouth. I had never been on this side of the cordial and now I realized why my siblings always smothered me in crushing embraces after the magic took hold. Because it was nerve wracking to wait. To sit and wait, helpless, watching for signs of life. Wondering if this would be the time the miracle doesn't happen. The cordial could cure any wound with a single drop. But it could not restore life to the dead.

My gaze flickered between Lucy and Peter. The fauns trotted up, hands going up to cover their mouths as they took in the scene. I didn't even spare a glance to identify them. I couldn't. My focus was solely on Peter. Seconds dragged by without change. Doubt clouded my mind, masquerading as the certainty that Peter had finally succumb to his injuries and Lucy was just too late.

Peter's gasp, accompanied by his blue eyes finding mine, quickly banished the darkness from my thoughts. Lucy didn't wait for him to sit up. She threw herself across him as he lay prone in the sand, tucking her head into that special place between his chin and his shoulder where she fit just right, as if it had been made for her. Peter's arms automatically came around her, though he was blinking sluggishly, trying to gain his bearings after coming so close to the brink of death.

"Hullo," I greeted stupidly, my usual wit impaired by my immense relief and gratitude.

"Edmund," Peter breathed, gaze warming with enough unabashed love that I had to look away.

That was typical Peter. He felt things truly and passionately, and saw no reason to hide any of it.

"Peter, Peter, Peter," Lucy chanted, hugging him tightly one last time before sitting back on his recently healed legs. "Thank Aslan we found you!"

"Yes, how did you find us? Where are we?" I asked hoarsely.

"Well, it was the mermaids. They came to the Cair and woke us all up to tell us of how you'd been attacked and then captured and about how those awful pirates used some kind of dark magic to take you far away." Lucy launched into her explanation, chatting without pause for breath, as was her habit.

"If we're so far away, how did you get here so fast?" I wondered.

"The naiads. I didn't even know there were any but the mermaids went to them and asked them to come from the depths up to the surface and when they did, they are quite beautiful by the way, I asked them if they would be able to help me find you. They said they would. Well, actually, they don't speak but they nodded and almost left without us because they forgot we couldn't swim."

"Narnia hasn't got any ships for traveling across the sea," I objected. "Our boat was completely smashed when we got here."

Lucy tutted at my ignorance. "That's because you didn't have the naiads helping you. They're very powerful and completely in tune with the sea. They were able to carry our boat through the waves and guide us here. We will have to find some way to repay them because it was very hard for them to do that since this is such a wicked place. They could feel the evil here but they brought us anyway. They were so wonderful!" Her face shifted. "We could see the fire. It was terrible not knowing what that meant. I didn't know if you two were safe." Her expression brightened again. "But now I know you are and I'm so happy." She beamed at the pair of us.

Peter lifted his torso, wrapping his arms around Lucy. "So am I." He pressed a kiss to the top of her head before twisting to glance at me. "But Ed's in need of your cordial."

"No, I'm not!" I protested.

With ease that was completely unfair, Peter somehow had the strength and balance to not only stand from his sitting position, but to lift Lucy with him. She giggled at him and he set her gently on her feet. They towered over me now, staring down with pity in their eyes.

"Edmund, I think you do need it," Lucy said sincerely. "You're a mess."

I surveyed my own appearance. My outfit was a complete loss. There would be no saving the garment, what with the holes in the shoulders from harpy claws, and the missing bottom hem that I'd used for Peter's bandages, or the various little tears the trees had ripped, not to mention the green smudges of seaweed stains, and the singed edges from the fire, or the sand coating the entire thing. I contemplated whether the punishment would be less severe if I showed up in front of Susan in my nothing but my breeches rather than this abused outfit. My only consolation was that Peter's clothes were worse. Along with enough sand to rival mine, his also bore the marks of being shipwrecked and then hunted and then running for his life through an evil jungle. On top of that, his shirt was stained with werewolf blood and the right leg of his pants had been shredded by sea serpent fangs. The reminded of that horrible event twisted my stomach and I shuddered at the memory of rain stinging my skin, the scent of fresh blood, of Peter's tortured screams-

"Edmund."

Peter's calm voice snapped me back to the present moment.

"I'm alright," I insisted.

Lucy hesitated, looking between me and Peter. Peter crossed his arms, drawing himself up to appear intimidating, as he so often did in the throne room in front of visiting dignitaries.

"No, you're not."

"Yes, I am," I repeated, scrambling to get to my feet so as not to seem so small next to him.

The sand wasn't stable and it slipped out from beneath my boots, leaving me to fall into an undignified heap, which was not at all helpful to the presentation of my case. Peter's snort and Lucy's muffled chuckle didn't help either. When I finally managed to stand straight, I lifted my chin challengingly.

"See, I'm perfectly healthy."

Peter locked his eyes on mine and didn't look away, even as he recited my list of injuries, beginning with the strikes to the face that the pirates had given me, and ending with my adverse reaction to the smoke, as evidenced by my scratchy voice. I blinked at him in amazement. He had left nothing out, including my dehydration, and even the cut on my palm for which he was not present when I received it. My mother hen of a brother was finely tuned to me and had the uncanny ability to notice every single detail about my wellbeing.

"That does sound serious," Lucy agreed, reaching for the cordial.

"It's no such thing," I insisted. "Just a few bumps and bruises. I'll be fine in a week or so."

Peter's brows drew together. "What concerns me are those ribs."

Lucy stepped forward, holding out the cordial. I put my hand on hers, pushing it down. "We should save it for when we need it most."

Peter gave me a long, measuring look. I stared back, unflinching. Finally, he reluctantly nodded.

"But only on the condition that you see the healers as soon as we get back to the Cair," he stipulated.

"Of course," I quickly agreed.

"And follow all of their instructions," Peter added sternly.

That was a promise I could not make so easily. But I knew it would be the only way to appease him so I agreed to that as well, dooming myself to all sorts of ridiculous regimens such as week long bed rests, and a steady diet of soup and honeyed pears. I never understood why Dama, Cair Paravel's leading doe expert on healing herbs, insisted on prescribing honeyed pears.

"Last chance to back out, Ed," Lucy warned, preparing to clip the bottle back to her belt.

I considered it. It was a tempting solution. But still, I shook my head.

"Alright then." The cordial was secured. "We should be getting back," Lucy reminded, turning on her heel and leading the way back down the beach. "The boat's just over here."

The fauns followed her and I made to as well, only Peter snagged my elbow before I could take more than a step. I turned to him, curious.

"Edmund-" he started.

"I know. I should learn to do as I'm told." I rolled my eyes fondly.

Peter looked surprised. "Well, yes. But also…" his expression softened, "thank you."

"See here, there's no need for that," I told him gruffly, though I'm sure he could see the corners of my mouth lifting.

Peter's hand left my elbow and his arms twitched toward me. However, he dropped them to his sides before they made contact. "I suppose you're excused from hugging until your ribs heal."

I nodded vehemently, never more grateful for an injury. A sly smile stole over Peter's lips and then he had an arm curled around my shoulders, drawing me to his side.

"But there's more than one way to hug a king," he crowed.

I made a half-hearted attempt to squirm out of his grip, but mostly, I relished in the sensation of his nearness, his laughs echoing in my ears.

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Guest: I hope you liked this chapter! :) There's probably one left to go.

ChildofGod: Yes, I am a ghost. That's why it's taking so long for me to update. These incorporeal fingers are a pain to type with ;) Ooh! I will take the LotR vibes as a huge compliment! As you can see, I do enjoy kidnapping, chasing, attacking, and mauling these precious Pevensie brothers-but I draw the line at baking them into crisp waffles! A writer has to have some boundaries, right? *clinks ghostly glass of wine with yours* Cheers!

NarniaGirl: Well, there's a difference between intentional 'plot' suspense and unintentional 'waiting for the author to get her rear in gear and update the fic already' suspense. I'm the one who should be sorry-this is your requested story after all :) Poor Peter was out of his mind with blood loss-seriously, suggesting that Edmund leave him behind, while a noble sentiment, was a completely batty thing to say! Because, as you pointed out, Edmund **never** does as he's told ;)


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